Reflections and Visitations
by Scribbler
Summary: Kimiko/Clay. Clay/Kimiko. Doesn't seem possible, right? They think so, but have to think again when alternate versions of themselves drop in and are a clear couple. 15: The two Kimikos finally make a connection, but is it too little too late?
1. Arrival

**Disclaimer: **Verily, they are not mine.

**A/N: **For Sparksearcher, who requested it when I threw out a 'make me write things!' challenge on Livejournal.

**Continuity: **Post-_Time After Time_ in the canon. Can also follow _A Perfect Graveyard of Buried Hopes_, a fanfic I wrote last year, and which you can read if you have burning questions afterwards.

**Feedback: **Feedback keeps me flexible.

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_**Reflections and Visitations**_

© Scribbler, July/August 2006.

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_All men and women are born, live suffer and die; what distinguishes us one from another is our dreams, whether they be dreams about worldly or unworldly things, and what we do to make them come about... We do not choose to be born. We do not choose our parents. We do not choose our historical epoch, the country of our birth, or the immediate circumstances of our upbringing. We do not, most of us, choose to die; nor do we choose the time and conditions of our death. But within this realm of choicelessness, we do choose how we live. _-- **Joseph Epstein**

-

"This must seem mighty weird, huh?"

"Actually, this kind of thing happens more often than you might think."

The other Clay raises a sceptical eyebrow. "Seriously?"

Raimundo juts out his chin and folds his arms, just a little defiant. Omi peers out from behind him, eyes dominating the round moon of his head. He's still a little kid in so many ways.

Kimiko, for her part, just can't take her eyes off the pair. They stand close to each other, not quite back to back, but there's something about their stance that says they'd be ready to kick some heads in, like, no seconds flat. They might even give _Omi_ a run for his money. There's just something about them – a hard edge to the way they carry themselves, a peculiar intensity in the slope of their bodies.

Plus, it's just way too bizarre to see two Clays doing Clay-like things – things a Chameleon-bot wouldn't know. Currently they're both grunting thoughtfully and scratching their heads through their hats. The other Clay's is slightly more battered, with scorch marks all up one side and a hole the size of an acorn through the brim.

Yet even weirder than two Clays is seeing another version of herself – her as she could've been, given some major league changes in her life. The girl standing in the centre of the kitchen is about fifteen pounds thinner than herself, and there are dark circles under her eyes. Her hair, Kimiko's pride and joy, is plain black and scraped back into a tatty little braid that barely reaches her shoulders. It obviously hasn't been washed for some time. Neither has her neck, or her hands. There are stains on her knuckles too dark to be dirt.

Kimiko shivers.

"So how the heck did you come through to _our_ universe?" Raimundo demands. He's still new at being leader, and feels he has to prove himself by being brash and obnoxious to things he doesn't understand.

The other Kimiko stiffens the way she has every time Raimundo speaks, no matter how much warning she's received. For all the guardedness of her body, her eyes haven't left him so far, as if she's afraid she'll go blind tomorrow and have nothing to remember him by. She looks almost _hungry_, the rest of her expression flitting between pained and angry without any stimulus.

Kimiko isn't sure she wants to ask what sort of world they come from. She isn't sure she'd like the answer.

It's the other Clay who responds. He's the mouthpiece, and Kimiko can't help but notice that he inches forward a little, subtly interposing himself between the other Kimiko and Raimundo. "I ain't rightly sure, though I reckon Grand Master Dashi might've had sumthin' to do with it. All I know is, we was fightin', he was spellcastin' again to get us out of our fix, and then this big dang hole opened up in the ground under us. We fell on through, and landed here."

"In the middle of our dinner," Clay (the real Clay, as Kimiko mentally dubs him, though the other Clay is no less real, just not _their _Clay) points out.

"Yeah … sorry 'bout that. Wasn't 'zactly aimin' anywhere in particular. Did we ruin anythin' good?"

"I made Alabama Chocolate Mudslide."

"Tarnation! An' I sat in it? Man, I ain't eaten chocolate in … well, s'gotta be goin' on six months now!"

"Landsakes! Truly?"

"God's own truth."

"Well, when y'all get a chance, I'll make some up for you. T'ain't right to go so long with sweet stuff."

"I knew I was a decent guy."

"Hold it, hold it, hold it!" Raimundo holds up both hands, making the other Kimiko startle and fall halfway into a defensive posture.

She straightens guiltily, her movements sharp and quick, and the other Clay puts a hand on her shoulder as if to steady her.

"You two know _Grand Master Dashi_?" Raimundo demands.

"Uh…" At once, the other Clay looks uncomfortable. "After a fashion."

"For real? Man, that is so _cool_! He's, like, a legend! The greatest Xiaolin warrior who ever lived! At least in our universe."

"Ours, too."

"And you guys _know _him! Seriously? Man, what I wouldn't give for one conversation with him … Dude, I wanna be in your universe!"

Both the other Clay and the other Kimiko exude an awkward silence that spreads to the rest of them. Though he's gone to fetch Master Fung, Kimiko thinks that even Dojo would be quietened by the unpleasant sense of the unsaid rolling off them in waves. They don't just say nothing, they consciously aren't saying _something_.

She's about to speak, to add her own yen's worth on this latest piece of weirdness (could this be the work of a new Shen Gong Wu? Is it reversible? Does it really matter?), when the other Kimiko suddenly shifts her expression and drops her fists. She takes a step forward, brushing off the other Clay's hand when he tries to stop her. As she does so she enters a patch of sunlight and is bathed in its glow. The bright red of her training uniform sharpens, making her seem even greyer and more wilted than she already does. Only her blue eyes look truly alive in her wan face. They glitter as she approaches Raimundo, who regards her with a mixture of eager interest and unease.

Kimiko catches his eye over her doppelganger's head.

"Uh, that might not be the best idea," she says quickly. She sounds a little scratchy, and self-consciously clears her throat before continuing. "The last time two people from different universes touched, they kinda nearly imploded the fabric of reality."

"I did not know that would be happening!" Omi protests. "And it was not so much badness. Look at what we learned. So many handsome varieties of Omi could never be a badness thing!"

But the other Kimiko isn't listening. She snatches back her hands from where they are about to cup Raimundo's face, but doesn't take her eyes off him. The other Clay moves to stand behind her and replaces his hand on her shoulder. It looks a well-practised move.

Kimiko narrows her eyes a little, mind bounding around like an inquisitive dog that's been cooped up for too long. She reins it in, however, when the other Kimiko suddenly sniffs and drags the back of one dirty hand across her eyes. Her lashes are spiked with damp, and the stain on her knuckles leaves a reddish smear all across her cheek.

"It's you," she whispers hoarsely. And man, isn't _that_ a kicker, to hear your own voice coming out of somebody else? "It's really you. You're here. And you're still you."

Raimundo looks perplexed. "Uh, I was the last time I checked."

The other Clay's hand tightens and then relaxes in what Kimiko assumes is a comforting squeeze. "You know it ain't, darlin'. Don't torture yourself."

"Can't you see him? He's here. He's here, and he's still _him_!" Her voice climbs an octave.

"But he ain't _our _Raimundo. He's the Raimundo of _this _universe. Look at them duds. They look like anythin' our Rai'd wear?"

"I don't care! I want -" She stops. All at once, the light goes out of the other Kimiko's eyes. She drops her head. "Yeah. I-I guess you're right. Sorry."

Another comforting squeeze. It's a strangely intimate thing.

Now the real Clay is looking at the pair of newcomers with concern, too. Maybe he's moving towards the same conclusion as her, Kimiko thinks. There's a closeness to them that can only be explained in one way that she knows of, and it means she's too embarrassed to meet the real Clay's eye when he glances at her. She can feel her cheeks beginning to burn at the very _idea_.

Raimundo is staring at them all like they're nuttier than a big bowl of Nutty-Nut Flakes. "Did I miss something?"

The other Kimiko smiles. It's jagged as a rusty penknife. "It _is_ you," she murmurs. "I don't care how we got here; I'm never going back. Not ever. "

"Don't say never, darlin'," the other Clay warns. "It'll come back to bite you."

"There's nothing left for us _anyway_. You saw what happened to Omi … the Shade … you saw it pick him up. You _saw_. And the others - Master Fung, Dojo … Jack …" Her voice cracks. "They're all _gone_, Clay. All that's left is … is _Dashi._" She doesn't say his name with the same reverence as Raimundo did, but spits it out like a spoonful of salt. It seems an odd way of talking about the greatest Xiaolin warrior who ever lived.

"This ain't our universe -"

"It could be! We could make it ours! We don't have to go back! It's not like moving house; we don't have to bring any possessions with us. What is there left for us there? Can you think of anything you'd go back for?"

"Kimiko -"

"Well can you?"

"It's our responsibility to -"

"Screw responsibility."

"Kimiko!"

But she just murmurs under her breath, rocking slightly on the balls of her feet. "It's not fair. I never asked to be a Dragon in the first place. I didn't ask for any of this to happen. It's not fair, and I'm not going back. Never, never, never, never…"

Kimiko shivers at the tinkling of the little charm clutched in the other girl's fist.

-


	2. Truth

-

**2.**

-

Kimiko is pretty sure she freaked everyone out with her little display, but she can't say she much cares. She wasn't exactly thinking clearly. How could she, when her mind had been turned into an open wound? Or rather, an old wound had been reopened as soon as she unsqueezed her eyes in the middle of that broken table and saw familiar faces bending over her. Her head and her heart had instantly become a suppurating mass of scrambled brain matter, obstructed blood-flow, exploded neurons and short-circuited electrical impulses.

In this universe, Raimundo is still alive.

_Everyone _is still alive, but it was suddenly being faced with a Rai who acts like himself that did it. He was the first one she lost. His presence here typifies the differences between this universe and her own. She feels like something important has suddenly been returned to its rightful place. A wrongness in her soul has been righted, and she doesn't even need to think about her feelings on the matter. She can't go back to having it be missing. It'd kill her to lose her friends a second time.

After this universe's Master Fung was brought in by Dojo, there was a little parley and then a bigger one that included her and Clay. Clay kept his hand on her shoulder the whole time, as if worried she might fly off the handle and grapple Raimundo and Omi to the ground in a euphoric embrace. There was a lot of discussion, some emotional outbursts (admittedly, mostly from her), all of which culminated in the knowledge that touch would not accidentally implode reality, as the other Kimiko had threatened it would.

Still, she noticed how Raimundo offered to go with their Clay to fetch some replacement clothes rather than stay in the same room as her. She weirds him out; but that's okay, because at least he's still alive. He can be weirded out all he likes, as long as it means he stays alive.

It still hasn't really sunk in yet.

Omi brought her down here to one of the workrooms while their Kimiko gets some clean threads. Being so close to another version of herself is pretty freaky, too, thanks for asking. She does what they've all fallen to doing in order to deal with bad feelings – her team, her friends, her _family_ and herself. She tries to run through some training exercises to clear her head, but halfway through ends up just kicking stuff around and hurting herself. Her shoulder was dislocated in that last fight. Clay popped it back in while Dashi shielded them, but it's stiff and sore, and her belly has several deep scratches from the Shade's claws. Her knuckles are the usual mass of cuts and contusions. She rubs them absently, poking at scabs so that prickles of pain run down her arm and ascertain that, yes, she's awake, and no, this isn't a dream.

Eventually she sits down, propping her back against a wall.

She must dose off, because the next thing she knows, the other Kimiko's face is three inches from her own. The other girl jumps back guiltily, holding up an armload of clothing like it's a shield. Her hair is a startling shade of hot pink. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to wake you."

"Yeah, well, you did. I'm a light sleeper." Kimiko nods at the clothes. "Are those for me?"

"Uh, yeah. I wasn't sure what you'd like – I mean, what the fashions are in your world, so I brought a selection and figured you could mix and match."

Kimiko reaches for a pair of stonewash jeans, rubbing the fabric between thumb and forefinger. "Something clean that doesn't smell like old herbs and smoke would be a step up. Oh, and no bloodstains. That'd be nice. Other than that, I'm easy."

The other Kimiko has gone very still. She plays with the corner of a string top that's not too far removed from her hair colour. "We're … you're really _not_ much like me, are you?"

"I honestly hope not. Hey, is that a taffeta ball gown?" Kimiko pulls herself to her feet, pointing.

"Huh? Oh, yeah."

"Did you wear that to the dance with Hikaru Mako?"

"Yeah. We couldn't get dates, so we - "

"Went with each other. Yeah, I know." There's a loaded pause. "I guess our universes do have some things in common."

"I guess," the other Kimiko says uncomfortably.

"I'll take the black Capri paints and red halter-neck."

"Sure. You … you want me to turn around while you change? Or I can get a screen. If you'd like."

An astringent smirk, sour as vinegar, curls up the corners of Kimiko's mouth. "I think the phrase 'you don't have anything I haven't seen before' has never been more relevant, has it?"

The other her smiles, too. It's softer. Everything about her is softer, like a fat little puppy. Even her eyes seem more liquid. "I suppose not."

Without further ado, Kimiko starts to strip. Her clothes crackle a little as they come away, made tough with old sweat and dirt. Brownish flakes come off when she peels her top over her head. She refuses to think whose blood that could be.

She can feel the other girl's eyes on her as her ribs are exposed, all clearly articulated and distinct, protruding like half a dozen slim book spines. She hears the gasp when she reveals her shoulder, which is a horrible purple-black, the skin bloated. To her credit, the other Kimiko's gasp is just a small one, and she doesn't ask where the injuries came from. Kimiko knows she's quite scarred in places from all their fights with the Shade, but a resolute silence hangs over proceedings.

When she's down to her underwear she stops, regarding the neatly folded pants and halter-neck. "I think … I'd like to get clean."

"Oh, a bath? I can run that - "

"No, not a full bath. Just a bowl of water and a cloth. Please."

The other Kimiko bites her lip, but does as she's bid – sort of. She returns fifteen minutes later with a washing up bowl full of hot water, three luxuriant towels, several flannels and a toiletry bag of shampoos, conditioners and other lotions and potions Kimiko herself used to use before she stopped caring how she looked. She regards these things with distaste. All she wants is to get clean, not smell like a beauty shop reject.

The gulf between who she is and who she used to be has never seemed wider than when confronted with a Kimiko who _does_ still care.

"Kneel down," the other Kimiko says, setting the stuff on the floor and tossing one of the towels over the doorframe so that no prying eyes can look in.

"I can wash mysel-"

"Just kneel down, okay? It's … you look pretty banged up. I brought a medikit. I didn't think you wanted any of the monks from the Infirmary over here, but your injuries need attention. It'll be easier this way."

Kimiko realises she's still massaging her knuckles and stops. "I don't need you to take care of me," she bites out, less a fat little puppy than a snarling stray dog. "I'm perfectly capable of doing it myself."

"Yeah, and you look like you've been doing a great job, too." There's tentative humour there, a sort of gentle mocking Kimiko remembers she used to use a lot. When did she stop that? When did her voice get so hard it snaps uncomfortably against her palette when she talks? She shrugs the thought away and refocuses on the skinny little girl across from her.

The other Kimiko has her hands on her hips; legs akimbo, a real 'don't argue with me or I'll slap the tartar off your teeth' pose that's completely at odds with her nervous tone. The pose is disturbingly familiar. Kimiko is almost certain she used to stand just like that when one of the boys was being dumb.

She heaves a great sigh and sinks down, folding her knees underneath her.

They work in silence for a while. Sometimes Kimiko hisses when an open cut is dabbed, or a bruise is poked, or old breaks Dashi couldn't completely magick away protest at the attention. The other Kimiko's touch is feather-light. There is a nimble, nervous proficiency to her movements. She's no dawdler. Idleness breeds thoughts, and neither of them really wants to dwell too long on how completely surreal – even by their standards – this whole situation is.

Somewhere in this temple, Clay is probably getting the same kind of treatment. Kimiko thinks of him stripping off his shirt, wonders if he'll explain the big splurge mark where Jack's body hit that bog and washed bloody sludge over them. Even if they offer him a new hat, he won't accept it. His hat is special. It's the one he popped over Omi's head as a joke whenever he got too serious – which was most of the time by the end.

She dreams, sometimes, when she isn't _really _asleep, of curling the unbroken fingers of her left hand around Omi's and hanging onto him with superhuman strength, so he can't run in front of Master Dashi and throw himself at the oncoming Shade. Omi never saw the end of the Big Battle – the one that was supposed to finish things but did nothing more than demolish the temple. His sacrifice was rather pointless, and something Kimiko will never be able to forgive Dashi for, even though the rational part of her brain knows he didn't order Omi to do that. The little guy always did have an over-inflated sense of duty.

The Omi in this universe is still alive, too. She hugs this thought to her like an old teddy bear, warm and comforting. He's alive, he's safe, and he isn't living each day in preparation for one last battle with the creature that stole his best friend from him -

Kimiko jolts abruptly, knocking the sponge from her doppelganger's hand. "The Shade!"

"Hey!"

But she's not listening. A thought has occurred to her, something she could kick herself for not realising earlier. This world's Omi and Raimundo and Master Fung are still alive. This world hasn't been ravaged by the Shade's singular quest to wipe them out. The Shen Gong Wu of this world are still in perfect working order. Time has passed, just as in her world, but things are _different _here.

But how different?

She clambers jerkily to her feet.

"Hey, sit down – you … what? What is it?"

"I need to find Master Fung."

"What? Why?"

"You're all in very great danger."

"Who, us? Tell me something I don't know. Every bad guy on the planet wants a piece of us since we - "

"Not from them. From something worse. I have to talk to Master Fung. I have to warn him – he can do research. He can stop it from happening here."

"Hey, what? Wait! You can't go running off like that! You're not decent!"

-


	3. Run

-

**3.**

-

Kimiko sprints along the corridor, every step like something in a dream after too much pizza. She's not _really _chasing a half-naked alternate version of herself through the temple. She's actually fast asleep in her bedroll, and when she wakes up she's going to have a mouth that tastes like a used litter box and foreswear all triple-cheese-and-barbeque-chicken for the rest of her days – or at least until the next time master Fung lets Clay make some.

She skids sideways around a corner, misjudges, ricochets off the wall and decides that she's not really in a dream after all. That _smarts_. "Come back!"

The other Kimiko doesn't listen. Instead, she darts through a doorway and out of sight. Kimiko grunts in irritation and follows, finding herself in an antechamber leading onto the courtyard. The other Kimiko is racing barefoot across the rough stones, giving no indication that they hurt her feet in the least. With all those injuries it's a wonder she's on her feet at all, let alone going full pelt like this. Gamely, Kimiko gives chase.

"You're gonna get pneumonia!" she yells. She might as well have kept silent, for all the good it does; but then, since when has she ever known the value of silence over unnecessary chatter? She's self-aware enough to know that she can talk both hind legs off the donkey, and then bore him into beating himself senseless with the soggy ends.

This other her may not know the value of silence either, but she doesn't seem as in love with her own voice. It felt momentous to watch her before, when she was peeling off the layers and reducing herself into the simple body they both shared – like with every bit of clothing she took off, she also took off part of what made them different. As if there could ever be any sort of deeper meaning to undressing like that? Yet when she was standing there in just her skivvies, Kimiko had felt a strange sort of connection with her.

It bothers her a little. This alternate Kimiko is so unfamiliar in some ways, yet so recognisable in others. The way she bites her lower lip when she's in pain; going to the dance with Hikaru; her breakneck but graceful gait – Kimiko can almost believe she's watching footage of herself in action. These are whole new levels of surreal that she never could've predicted when she sat down to sample some of Clay's celebrated Chocolate Mudslide.

If she's being honest, she'd like her doppelganger to go back to her own world. It's just too weird having her around – weird, and a little creepy. However, Kimiko's heart isn't made of stone. If this alternate world is as bad as she suspects it is, then she wouldn't make anyone go back there if they don't absolutely have to. Still, creepy, with a capital C and a big fat 'reepy'.

It will all hinge on what Master Fung says about the damage that could be done to _this_ dimension if the other Clay and Kimiko are permitted to stay in it. Kimiko has learned enough over her time as a Xiaolin Dragon to know that, where magick's concerned, anything goes. None of them know what the risks of hopping between dimensions _are_, let alone the risks posed by staying in them.

Yet all these thoughts are put on hold for now, as she sprints across the courtyard and through a cloud of sweet-smelling incense. The corridor leading to Master Fung's quarters always smells of something other than sweaty socks, body spray and old cheese – the most common aromas of _their _personal areas.

By the time she reaches the other Kimiko, she's banging on the door with both fists and shouting for Master Fung to get his butt out here, quick sharp. She sounds panicky, and jitters backwards when the door opens and Master Fung is highlighted in the doorway by the soft flickery glow of several candles. Evidently he was meditating, as Dojo is nowhere to be seen and practically the only time he's banished (apart from when they're out hunting Wu) is when Master Fung needs complete quiet to concentrate. Kimiko can't blame him. Her brain feels like it needs clearing, too.

"Ah," he says upon seeing them, not reacting in the slightest to the whole lack-of-clothing issue. "Kimiko. And Kimiko. You wish to see me?"

"You bet I do!" the other Kimiko snaps. "You've got to move fast. There may still be time. I know things are different in your world, but if it's just been asleep longer or something then you're all finished if you don't act quickly - "

"Slow down, Kimiko." Master Fung raises his palms, voice soothing. He just has that kind of voice – that supportive, comforting tone that comes as naturally as breathing. "Perhaps it would be best if you came inside. It's rather chilly out here, and I sense you have a lot to say. Kimiko?"

It takes Kimiko a moment to realise he means her, and not her half-naked doppelganger. "Uh, yes Master Fung?"

"It would perhaps be prudent if you fetched some clothes for our guest? And if you could send Dojo to me, I would be very grateful." He ushers her other self inside and looks back, waiting for a reply, as though it was an actual question and not a thinly veiled order.

"Uh, yes. Master Fung. Right away. Master Fung," Kimiko stutters. _Three bags full, Master Fung, _part of her feels like adding, but she refrains. Master Fung has a mind like a buzz saw hiding behind a face like an elderly apple. If he thinks usurping her role as carer for her doppelganger is a good idea, then she can't very well accuse him of stealing her thunder. Ha ha. Besides which, the other Kimiko looks very seriously flustered, and from the conclusions about her toughness and character Kimiko has already drawn, this does not seem like a Good Thing.

She scampers off to retrieve the Capri pants and halter neck top, wondering where Dojo could be. As if the universe (or maybe the multiverse, since it's been coming out to play so often lately) is listening, she runs across him on the other side of the courtyard and passes on that Master Fung wants to see him right away, and that the other Kimiko is with him.

Dojo nods, more solemn than usual. "I'll boogie right over there. Uh, Kimiko?"

"Yeah?"

"How much did your … how much did the other, uh, you say about the world she comes from?"

"Not much. Just that it's different than ours in some ways, and the same in others. She knew stuff, y'know? Stuff I never told anyone here about, from before I became a Dragon. So I figure, maybe our two worlds were the same up to a point, and then … what's the word? Moved apart? Split?"

"Diverged?"

"Yeah, that's it. Like with the two futures – one with Old Omi, and one without an Omi at all."

Dojo sticks out his lower lip in thought and taps his chin with one claw. "Nothing else? She didn't mention anything more than that?"

"No. Oh, apart from something called a 'Shade'. Maybe a really big sunhat, or palm tree, or something? She got really upset about that and ran off, and I think she said something about it before, right after she and the other Clay first got here and she was acting all weird around Raimundo. I think that's what she's talking to Master Fung about, actually."

"Right." Dojo's face resolves itself into a purposeful mask. He slithers down the steps and onto the cobbles, but pauses at the bottom to turn and look back at her. His face is funny, but not 'funny ha ha', more 'funny disturbing'. "Clay – that is, the other Clay, not ours – he was a bit freer with his info. He said some stuff that … he said some heavy stuff. So if you see the others and they act a little … off, then that's probably why."

"Jeez Louise, Dojo, you make it sound like Raimundo went evil again and took over the world." It's said with a laugh, but all humour gurgles away like dirty bathwater at Dojo's expression. "Oh hell, that's it, isn't it?"

"Not exactly."

"But Raimundo's evil in their world? Is that why she – the other Kimiko was being so freaky around him? I guess that'd make sense. How long has he been like that? Did he ever come back from the dark side after Wuya? Is _Wuya _ruling their world?"

"No, Wuya was defeated by you Dragons in that world, just the same as here. And Raimundo isn't evil, although from what Clay Mark II said, their Kimiko acts like he is."

She screws up her face in confusion. "What?"

A door bangs open. A high-pitched female voice, full of anger, floats across the courtyard accompanied by Master Fung's distinctive calming tones, and then the door slams shut again.

"I'd better go," says Dojo, wiggling away as fast as his coils will allow.

"But what about Raimundo?" Kimiko's question echoes back at her, unanswered. She frowns, resentful that she's the one in the dark while everyone else finds out what's going on. Isn't she the one who's alternate double popped in for a visit? Shouldn't that earn a little more respect? At the very least, Dojo could've explained what he meant by the evil-but-not-evil Raimundo remark.

Grunting irritably, she goes to fetch the abandoned clothes, which lay in a pathetic little pile like the aftermath of a racy prom night.

-


	4. Stymie

-

**4. Stymie**

-

So that's it then. Kimiko is happy at the news – scratch that, she's ecstatic – but in amongst all the happiness can't help but feel a little … let down. Like a popped balloon. There should've been more drama, she thinks. The Shade should've at least merited a few fireworks, considering how it devastated her world.

But no. Master Fung listened to her story and nodded in all the right places. She didn't leave anything out – not the sudden, inexplicable appearance of the shadow-creature, not how it plagued them for months, not how the Shen Gong Wu were less than useless against it and eventually stopped working altogether, not even how they rallied themselves for one last battle at the temple. Her voice caught in a few places – especially when she described how Master Monk Guan and Raimundo fell, and how Master Dashi's spirit returned to earth and took over Raimundo's body at the very moment the Shade ate his soul, thereby stopping it from dying, even if it sounded a little like zombies and voodoo to her.

The room around her was reassuring in its solidness. The temple around her is shadowed, sturdy, defensible, and utterly familiar – despite the fact she hasn't been in it over a month. She tells Master Fung about how Grand Master Dashi's plan to neutralise the Shade only wounded it – which was better than they'd ever done before, but which involved sacrificing the temple and most of the surrounding area to achieve.

And Omi. She paused before admitting that the final-battle-that-wasn't has also sacrificed Omi. Tears were already in her eyes by then, but they spilled down her face like they'd never stop as she recounted the madcap sprint into the mountains, Clay and Jack carrying Dashi between them while she, Dojo, her Master Fung and the temple monks who'd survived followed. By the time she got to the part where her Master Fung succumbed to his injuries, how Dojo was such a mess afterwards that he kept wandering away from camp, and how the recovered Shade found him on one of his wanderings before searing a path through the temple monks – by the time she got to all that, her chest was convulsing and her throat tightened intermittently like she wanted to retch. It was nearly too much, to remember it all – to relive every harrowing detail as they sprang into her mind. The Dashi's inflection in Raimundo's voice. Omi's scary determination to defeat the Shade. Dojo's scream. Jack's terrified eyes as the Shade lifted him into the air. The feel of Master Fung's hand going limp in her own –

That's when this world's Master Fung reached out and took her hand. He can do that, she remembers of her own Master Fung, who is so much like this version it's bizarre, compared to the glaring differences between everyone else. He can take people's hands, stroke their shoulders, put his arm about their waists, all without any meaning other than basic comfort. He can touch with ease. She's never been able to do that. If she tries, her movements become clumsy. She's much more at home with punching and kicking. She embarrasses people when she tries to be softer. Yet Master Fung's touch was light and gentle and lovely. He made her feel wanted, important to him – a part of his world.

"I will have to consult my scrolls, but I think I may of the creature you call 'the Shade'," he said. And after a few more palliatives, he did just that, leaving her with a Dojo who is still vibrant and friendly, even if it does seem a little (actually, a lot) forced after her story.

Dojo came into the room just as she was starting, and when he looked at her she knew that he already knew bits of it. Clay never could keep his mouth shut in company. Yet she'd felt him freeze up as she went into detail, until eventually, when she got to the death of _his _doppelganger, he was staring open-mouthed. Master Fung actually clicked it shut when he went out.

She shakes her head and steps into the bath Dojo has drawn for her. It's all full of bubbles that go up her nose, and oils that make her smell like one of those perfume counters with the women who chase after you with spritzers. Dojo makes sure she's well lathered before producing a loofah and a sponge.

"I do this for Master Fung," he says sheepishly. "But if you'd rather I left you to it … you being a girl and all…"

"No, it's okay," she says with sincerity. It feels good to be pampered. It doesn't make up for anything she's been through, but … it feels good. This whole dimension feels good. It's like she never knew what contentment was before, but now she does, and she wonders whether any of the Dragons here even realise how lucky they are.

Dojo is gentle but thorough, and when the water in the tub has turned tepid he hands her a towel and beats a hasty retreat while she stands up, yanks the plug and dries herself. When she wanders into Master Fung's main room, hair wrapped in another lovely towel, she finds the black Capri pants and halter neck top she picked out before, neatly laid out on the back of a chair. There's a pair of soft black sandals with them, too. Of the other Kimiko, however, there is no sign.

Dojo materialises, making her jump backwards with her hands raised to fight. She flushes when she realises it's him, and she can see him faltering before he plasters on a big grin and holds up a hairbrush.

"That's never Master Fung's," she says, dryly, and with more humour than she feels. Despite the bath, she feels drained and exhausted, and above anything – even finding out how they fell into this freaky universe in the first place – all she really wants to do is sleep.

"He wishes," Dojo replies. "I have some salve for your injuries. The Infirmary monks had some spare, and they say it'll heal you up in no time."

"Thanks." Kimiko takes the little cloth pouch and dips her fingers into foul-smelling white paste, which she then rubs over her shoulder. The halter-neck may not have been the best choice, under the circumstances, but the salve is cool and does indeed make her feel better, though the smell negates the fragrant oils Dojo put in her bathwater. Now she smells like a perfume counter staffed by Swamp Thing.

Dojo holds up the hairbrush again. "You want me to brush, or is that a personal thing? Our Kimiko gets really possessive about her hair."

"I'm okay with you doing it. Just let me dress first, okay? Though the way I feel, pyjamas might be a better choice."

"I think Master Fung wants another meeting with everyone before bedtime. Understandable, really. The Dragons, they, ah … they'll wanna know your … story."

"Those who don't know it already, huh? I'll bet Clay already let most of it slip. He's like that. Can't keep anything to himself unless you staple his mouth shut. Though I guess you already know that."

So it is that, when Master Fung comes back, he finds Kimiko dressed and sitting in the chair, Dojo perched on her shoulder and brushing her hair with long, rhythmic strokes. She allows herself to be hypnotised by these strokes as Master Fung kneels and tells her that the creature that wrecked her life, and the lives of everyone she cared about, was no more than a footnote in the history of this world – neutralised centuries ago by a different generation of warriors, one of whom was a seer as well as a Xiaolin Dragon, before it gained enough strength to be truly dangerous.

_So that's it, then_, is all she can think. That's it. Poof. All gone. It doesn't trivialise her own struggles, except that it totally does. What happened to the seer Dragon in her world? Why weren't _her_ friends spared? Nobody can answer the questions, but that doesn't stop them popping into her head.

She'll never even know what the Shade even _was_. All the seer Dragon could say was that it was dangerous, this innocuous, oozy little black thing she saw with her Inner Eye, and that it had to be stopped without delay or there would be disastrous consequences.

_No kidding_,thinks Kimiko.

No bigger than a clenched fist, innocuous as a rabbit kitten, squealed as it was destroyed, tried to trickle away through the crack in a boulder until the Dragon of Earth forced it out again. The Xiaolin Dragons of the time actually felt _bad _about destroying it, but their seer insisted it must be done – that's what the scrolls Master Fung has with him say. He offers to let her read them, but she declines. She doesn't need to see it written down.

Perhaps in her world, those Xiaolin Dragons gave in to temptation and let the weak little black ooze go free. Perhaps it did escape through the boulder there. Perhaps the seer died before she could See the infant Shade at all. It's possible. Like Slayers, Dragons do die, and there are always new ones in every generation to rise up and replace them – even if they aren't always found and brought to the Xiaolin Temple for training. She once heard Dojo – her Dojo – say that in the eighteenth century there was a Dragon of Water who was also a shapeshifter, and before her came an empathic Dragon of Air. Her predecessors are a rich topic, but she never heard of a seer before.

Her breathing has quickened. Master Fung touches the tangled clasp of her hands, meeting her gaze with his own blue eyes, and it's as if he's searching hers – searching them _out, _as if to invite both of them back from the brink of something.

Kimiko can't help it. She's been very strong for a very long time. And she's already cried a lot today.

But he's so solid, so real, and so _Master Fung_ that she can't help but weep afresh and let him wrap her in a wrinkly hug, while Dojo just keeps on rhythmically brushing her hair.

-


	5. Reaction

* * *

**5. Reaction**

* * *

Kimiko swallows hard. Then she forces her voice out of her throat. It comes out strangled and squeaky, but audible. "Ohhh-kay. Clean up on Brain Aisle Three. I think we might need the bleach again."

She's imagined some pretty horrible stuff since the two strangers got here, but never in all her wildest imaginings could she have envisioned what they've _actually_ been through. It makes her feel sick, and she wants to stare at her doppelganger as much as she feels she has to look away.

How the heck did she _survive_ something like that? No wonder she's a little rough around the edges. It's amazing she isn't a complete screaming nutcase.

The other Kimiko sits straight-backed. Her eyes are a little puffy, but otherwise she looks extremely stiff and formal – regal, almost. She's been scrubbed clean and tidied and dressed so that she almost looks like a complete mirror image, but there's still something about her that says to everyone: _This is not the Kimiko you know and never will be_.

The other Clay, however, looks almost identical to the real one. They're dressed in the same plaid shirt, the same jeans, and the same slightly droopy smile. The only differences are hat-scorches, a narrower chest, and the fact that the other Clay's hair is a little longer and shaggier. Yet that's to be expected, living in the mountains and valleys for a month while waiting for Grand Master Dashi to recover. It's just about the only indication of what he's endured, leading Kimiko to re-evaluate Clay's resilience. He might be stronger than they ever knew.

Of everyone, Omi and Raimundo look the most shocked, which is ironic in a not-really way. Rai stares solidly at the floorboards, while Omi sits with his jaw in his lap. They're all in a tight circle on the floor, but his eyes have only left the other Kimiko to flick to the other Clay and back again. Everyone else might as well not be there.

The silence, like their long-forgotten tea, is strained. Finally Master Fung breaks it.

"I will have to consult the scrolls, and perhaps inform Master Monk Guan of the situation so he may assist us, but until such time as we discover how and why Clay and Kimiko have come to our world, I believe it is best if they stay with us at the temple."

"That … sounds fair," says Clay – their Clay, the Clay of _this_ world.

The Clay not currently romantically attached to a Kimiko.

Kimiko resists the urge to shake her head. She's never considered Clay that way before. He's like her big brother or something – he's her _friend_. The idea of kissing him, even if they both believed they might die tomorrow … ugh. Just ugh. Not that there's anything wrong with Clay, but … he's _Clay_. She can't think of any other justification. He's too Clay to be a boyfriend.

Not that her doppelganger has much problem with this. Her fingers are laced through the other Clay's, as they have been since they ran into each other's arms like they'd been apart for weeks instead of hours. They didn't kiss, nor do anything couple-y, but they did spend a long moment just holding onto each other, until the atmosphere turned awkward and both their doubles of this world turned beet red.

Kimiko hasn't looked Clay in the eye since then. Every glance exchanged between their romantic doppelgangers further increases the need _not_ do likewise.

"Where'll we sleep?" asks the other Clay. "I reckon there ain't a heap of personal space goin' spare to fit in two more bodies."

Master Fung looks around, awaiting suggestions from his students.

"They could … share with us?" Kimiko says when Raimundo fails to.

The pause she offers for interruption or rebuttal goes unused.

In truth there's plenty of spare room in the temple for futons to go in, but it feels more acceptable to offer company as well as sleeping quarters.

"If we had some more bedrolls, that is. Clay with Clay and … uh, Kimiko with … me?"

"That would seem sensible." Master Fung nods. "At least for tonight. Thank you, Kimiko."

"Thanks," says the other Clay. "That's a mighty fine offer. We don't wanna kick up too much ruckus."

"Little late for that," Kimiko mutters under her breath.

"So let me get this straight," Raimundo suddenly breaks in. "In your world I'm dead? And Grand Master Dashi is walking around in my body? Like he owns it?"

The other Kimiko and her Clay nod.

"I, also, am no longer alive?" Omi says softly.

Kimiko winces. She knows about what Omi saw in the alternate future – how he saw ancient versions of herself, Clay, Raimundo and Master Fung, and how he watched them die at the hands of Jack Spicer's souped-up Jack-bots. He's been unusually subdued since that time – though he's better than he was – and from what she now sees on his face, he's obviously thinking about it, as well as trying to absorb all they've been told about this _other _alternate timeline.

Temporal physics suck. Majorly.

Another nod from the doppelgangers.

"No wonder you were so screwy when you got here. It must've been like seeing ghosts." Rai folds his arms, apparently not realising how defensive he looks. "Total whackjob. You're not gonna, like, go psycho and bump us off in our sleep, are you?"

"I'd forgotten how obnoxious you could be," the other Kimiko replies. At his expression she adds, "But I'd still rather have you obnoxious than … yeah. You know the rest." She pauses a second, and then adds, "Dashi's a bastard. I always half believed he pushed our Raimundo's soul out when he could've saved him, just so he could use the body of a Dragon of Wind."

"Kimiko!" says her Clay.

"Well?" she snaps, but it's the snap of a Popsicle stick – tiny, splintery, and non-threatening. "It doesn't matter now anyway. Like I said, even if you figure out a way to send us home, I'm not going back." This last sentence is addressed to Master Fung, but the entire circle feels it.

Kimiko wants to say something about dimensional backlash, to question whether it's safe to mix worlds permanently, but it's like her speech has been turned off at the mains. She can't argue that they have to go back. It'd feel like … well, like murder.

The rest of the meeting passes uneventfully, riddled with discussion of sleeping arrangements and alerting the other, subordinate temple monks to the presence of two more guests. Raimundo advocates not telling them the whole gruesome story, but both Kimikos point out that it'd be pretty obvious something magical is going on at the sight of twins with all the powers and abilities of already active Xiaolin Dragons. Better to get things over with, and quickly, so rumour and bad feeling don't spread when it comes out that the other monks have been deliberately kept in the dark on such an important matter.

They disperse after this. Master Fung retreats to his quarters, along with Dojo. Raimundo disappears without a word, presumably too shaken to remember his leadership duties.

Omi wavers a moment, until the other Clay takes pity and tells him to go after Raimundo. Omi bows gratefully and speeds off after his friend. The other Kimiko watches both of them go with those scarily hungry eyes of hers, then turns those eyes on the remaining two Dragons.

"Uhm …" The real Clay sounds as embarrassed as Kimiko feels. His face is the colour of raw steak.

"I got me the feelin' our relationship bothers you two a mite," says the other Clay without preamble. "Would I be correct in that thinkin'?"

"A little," Kimiko admits. Part of her is horrendously uncomfortable, while the rest is suffused with relief that _somebody_ brought the matter up.

What's wrong with her? Usually she has no problem speaking her mind – she's not backward about coming forward, as her father and mother like to say, though they say it in vastly differing ways. Her father always sounds proud of his little girl. Her mother, fearsomely traditional, worries constantly that her daughter will never find a good husband with her brazen, westernised ways.

"I take it you two _aren't_ a couple." The other Kimiko is watching her, eyes blue and fierce as gas flames.

"No, we're not."

"Right."

"Not that we want y'all to stop … showin' affection for each other," Clay is hasty to assure them. "Don't stop on our account."

Kimiko notices how her doppelganger's grip on the other Clay's hand intensifies at this, like she's reacting to the clumsy reassurances with her own slight exaggerations. It doesn't _seem _intentional, but she's so _different _that she's hard to read...

"Thanks." There isn't any scorn in the other Kimiko's voice, but there could so easily be. _So _easily.

"Uhm, you guys hungry?" Clay scrambles to regain his balance. "Y'all squashed the Alabama Chocolate Mudslide I made, but I'm sure I could whip up sumthin' tasty in two shakes of a steer's tail."

"Actually, I am starving," the other Kimiko confesses. "Would some rice be okay? I don't know if my stomach could handle anything richer tonight."

"Done and done." Clay looks pointedly at his double.

"I reckon' you know what kind of meal I'd go for. Clever fellah like yo'self."

"Hm. Reckon' I do."

As Clay leads them towards the kitchen, Kimiko backs into a side corridor. "I'll just, uh, go see about those bedrolls," she says lamely, bolting before anyone can reply. It's selfish, and not at all fair on Clay to leave him as sole host, but she desperately needs a few moments alone to get her head straight. The boys at least gleaned a few details before the meeting. She, however, went into it blind and is still reeling at the thought that, but for one little incident that happened centuries ago – something she had _no _control over – her life could be so staggeringly different.

She spends several minutes just leaning against a wall outside, the night air sharp against her skin.

_It didn't happen here,_ she repeats to herself. _It's terrible what happened, but it didn't happen here. I shouldn't feel guilty that my world got lucky while theirs didn't. It's not my fault. It didn't happen here, and that's the end of it. I should just get on with things and not think about any 'might have been' junk. It won't help and it'll just give me a migraine._

The more she tells herself this, the more her muscles unclench. The quiet helps her collect herself. Weird, considering how she used to miss Tokyo's bustle when she first arrived here. she used to hate the quiet. Now it's a comfort. She actually feels a little better, though just imagining all the other her has been through is enough to set her off again.

It's also enough to make her thank her lucky stars, and resolve to call her parents when it's morning in Tokyo. She doesn't, actually, speak to them as often as she should; her father is always working, and relations with her mother have always been strained. She can't even remember the last time she told her mom she loves her. It will shock Mrs. Tohomiko, and quite possibly her first response will be to demand what Kimiko wants, but Kimiko knows it won't bother her as much as it may have, had she made such a call yesterday.

Buoyed by these promises, Kimiko levers herself up and goes in search of bedding for their guests.

She has not gone ten feet, however, when she turns a corner and almost steps on Omi. They both jump, which is totally weird because Omi has the best instincts of all the Dragons. Sneaking up on him is difficult when she _tries_. To do it by accident is beyond unusual.

"Oh! Kimiko!" he exclaims.

"Omi? What're you doing out here?"

"I, um, am making … preparations … for sleepy time?"

"Riiiight. Where's Raimundo? I thought you went after him."

Omi hangs his head. "I did. But he said that he would be liking some unaccompanied seconds and minutes."

The part of Kimiko's brain devoted to Omi translation goes to work. "Alone time?"

"That is what I said. He did not wish to talk with me about the matter of the Clay who is not Clay and Kimiko who is not you and their world of sadness and suffering."

"Hm." She glances around. "Where'd he go for this 'alone time'?"

Omi looks at her with apprehension.

"It's okay to tell me, Omi. He didn't make you swear an oath of secrecy or anything." She cocks her head at him. "Did he?"

Omi sighs. "The Shen Gong Wu Vault. But he was most insistent of not being accompanied. He even," he gulped, "yelled at me for trying to follow him."

Kimiko felt her heart scrunch up like a fist about to punch something. Before she came to China she never would've pegged herself as the least bit motherly. She's always been independent – separated from the people around her by her thorny personality and status as a child prodigy. Nobody wants to get close to the rich freak. Yet Omi brings out her latent Mother Bear instincts. Without even saying a word he _demands_ to be take care of.

"Omi," she crouches beside him, even though she's not that much taller to begin with, "do _you _want to talk about it?"

For a second it looks as though he's going to shake his head. Then he sniffs loudly. A large tear trickles down his cheek. Another drips off his nose. "I am being foolish," he stammers, dragging a sleeve across his eyes. "I am thanking my fortunate stars that our world is so much better than theirs. But these things also make me feel very bad – like I am wicked for thinking them."

"You feel guilty because you're glad all that awful stuff didn't happen here in our world," Kimiko surmises.

Omi raises his gaze. His eyelashes are spiked with moisture. "Yes!" He sounds grateful she's put it into words for him – or perhaps grateful she so easily understands how he feels. "Am I wicked for thinking such dishonourable things?"

"Of course not!"

"Then … you are also feeling this way?"

"I think it'd be really cold-blooded for any of us _not_ to, even if just a little bit. I mean, I feel _bad _for the other Kimiko and the other Clay – don't get me wrong about that – but at the same time, it'd be inhuman not to feel even a _little_ thankful that our problems are so much smaller than theirs." She shakes her head. "Man, I never ever thought I'd call Chase Young a small problem."

"Me neither." Then Omi does something unprecedented: he hugs her. "Thank you, Kimiko. I was feeling that I was most badness, but now I feel somewhat better. Perhaps you should be giving one of these 'pip talks' to Raimundo. He does seem in need of one, if you are brave enough to talk to him in his 'alone time' of yelling and insults."

"I'll give him alone time," Kimiko mutters heatedly.

Omi looks puzzled. It suits him more than the wretchedness of the last few minutes, even if his brow is still furrowed. "But he is already having his alone time. You do not need to give him any more."

"It's a figure of speech, Omi. Listen, I was going to get a couple of spare bedrolls. How about you do that and I'll go bang Raimundo's head against the Vault wall?"

Omi's puzzlement intensifies to alarm. "That is another figure of speech, yes?"

The little monk thus dispatched, Kimiko marches off to the Shen Gong Wu Vault. She can't feel too mad at Raimundo, but she can certainly feel irritated with him. They're all smarting, but that's no excuse to go yelling at poor Omi. That's just bullying, and if there's one thing she can't abide (apart from evil psychotic megalomaniacs and alternate futures where villains rule supreme) it's a bully.

She finds Rai dancing about the Vault with the Sword of the Storm. It's how he works off tension, she knows. When he's bored he pulls pranks. When he's preoccupied he plays keepy-uppy with a soccer ball. When he's troubled, he goes through all the complicated swordplay he's learned. The regular motion of jabbing and parrying seems to soothe him.

She spends a long moment just watching as he crosses from one side of the chamber to another, never missing a beat. It's almost like a dance. Nobody else is as good with a sword as Rai. Nobody else is as good with _that_ sword as Rai.

Eventually he notices her, but even then he doesn't break his step. Instead he whirls sideways, drops into a forward roll, and comes up next to her with both hands clamped on the hilt like he's about to gut her. The blade halts so close she'd cut herself if she inhales.

She doesn't move.

When he stands up he shakes sweaty hair from his eyes and lets the sword drop to his side. "You think Grand Master Dashi can handle the Sword of the Storm like that?" is the first thing he says, still panting.

"You yelled at Omi," Kimiko responds, folding her arms.

"Yeah, well … the little guy was bugging me."

"He's your friend. He wanted to talk to you. You had no right to yell at him for that – or to insult him."

"Jeez, take a chill pill, Kimiko. I yell at Omi all the time; and you've insulted everyone worse than anything I said."

"Yeah, but this time's different."

He glares at her for a moment, but the expression quickly deflates like an unpopped bubblegum bubble. "I suppose so…"

"He was only trying to help."

"Yeah. I guess. He was just following at my heels like a puppy, is all. He wouldn't shut up and let me _think_ … I'll apologise to the little dude when I see him."

"Before bed."

"Yeah, sure."

"It really bothered him, Rai. He was worried about you. He _is _worried about you-"

"I get it!" Rai snaps, running a hand through his hair. The sweat makes it stick up in odd peaks and troughs, but for once it's obvious he couldn't care less about his appearance. "You don't need to over-egg the pudding. I hurt his feelings. I get it. I'll say I'm sorry." He turns away and strikes the pose to go into another swordfighting routine.

"Don't you have anything else to say?" Kid gloves rarely figure when she's speaking to Rai. Straight talk, that's all that seems to get through to him. No nonsense, cut the crap, all cards on the table style arguments – that's what he reacts to, so that's what comes out of her mouth when she has something she really wants to say. He's a blow-hard, and she has a fiery temper. It's never a good mix, but often an explosive one.

"Not really." Cut, thrust, parry, jab. "Except that you never answered my question."

"Because it was a dumb question. How am I supposed to know what Grand Master Dashi does with a sword?"

"Well he _created _the Sword of the Storm. It stands to reason he'd be pretty good at using it."

"Not necessarily."

"Humph."

Slide, jab, roll, slice. Whatever his faults, Raimundo really is an excellent swordsman. His new robes make him look good, too – though with head still full of couples, in particular her parents and the other Kimiko and Clay, she's quick to shake away any thoughts that might be construed as romantic.

"It's okay to be unsettled, you know," she calls instead, raising her voice as Raimundo progresses away from her towards the spiral staircase that leads to the Wu drawers. "The rest of us are."

"Humph." Parry, thrust, parry, jeté, stab-stab-stab.

"After all, it's not every day you get visitors from another dimension."

"Kimiko, I know you're trying to be helpful and do all that touchy-feely, let's-talk-about-our-problems therapy junk, but shut the hell up. I'm trying to work here, and you're not the next Oprah." Stab-stab-stab. Stabbity-stabbity-stabbity.

"And I'm trying to make you see that it's fine to be weirded out, because bizarre as it may seem, I'm just as concerned about you as Omi is. And like I told him, it's perfectly natural to feel bad about what happened in that alternate world while also being grateful it didn't happen here, to us. You don't have to feel guilty or anything. Nobody's so altruistic they _wouldn't_ be grateful for something like that."

Thwack! Raimundo catches a pillar with the flat of the Sword. The noise reverberates around the chamber like a dozen untuned instruments playing at once.

Before it's finished he turns blazing green eyes in her direction and stalks towards her, arms swinging. "In that world," he spits, "I'm dead. Worse than that, my soul got _eaten_, and instead of getting a decent burial, my body is up and walking about with somebody else at the wheel. My parents, my brothers and sisters, they all saw what'd happened to me. And y'know what? Me dying didn't even _help_ or anything. The day wasn't saved. I just …" he waves his free hand wildly, "died! Just like that. Like I never even _meant _anything. Like I could just be _replaced ­– _swappedlike a Christmas present somebody didn't want. So tell me, Kimiko," he draws closer to her, pushing his face into hers, "is it okay to feel so mad and useless and expendable that you want to give back your robes of leadership before you've even had them a week? After all, you're so full of good advice tonight, you should know the answer. So answer me that: _is it?_"

Kimiko meets his glare squarely.

"I don't need your _permission _to feel a certain way. In that world, Grand Master Dashi – a guy I've looked up to and respected the whole time I've been a Xiaolin warrior – is treating my body like a rental car. And he may even have bumped me off in order to use it! I'm dead, Kimiko! I'm dead, and not loving it!"

Through gritted teeth, she says, "In that world, I had to watch you and everyone else die, and see somebody else use your body. I had to fight and fight and fight some more, knowing each time that I could lose someone else I care about and that I couldn't _do _anything about it. I had to live in the mountains for a month, knowing the thing that killed you was probably coming for me, and was very, very mad."

Raimundo opened his mouth to counter this.

"And I'm also in a romantic relationship with Clay." She narrows her eyes. "Beat that."

He winces, like the thought of her and Clay is a personal insult.

A long moment stretches around them, wrapping them up like cotton wool and cushioning them from the rest of the world. For that moment there's nothing else but the two of them, staring at each other, distant thoughts flitting behind their eyes. The Sword of the Storm gleams with a patina that betrays regular polishing. Kimiko's hair seems to pulse with vibrant colour, so at odds with the mustiness of the Vault and the gloominess of their conversation.

Then, very slowly, they start to laugh. Just sniggers at first, then chuckles, which eventually graduate into full-blown gales of laughter – tears-streaming-down-the cheeks, oh-my-god-my-sides-hurt-and-my-face-is-about-to-split-open laughter. Laughter that reduces them to boneless heaps against the chamber wall.

"Oh – oh man," Raimundo says at last, holding his stomach. He coughs over another laugh and scrubs at his eyes. "Phew. Aw, man. Y'know, other teenagers only have to worry about zits and test scores."

"Yeah." Kimiko nods. "Do you think we'd be happier that way?"

He spends a fleeting second pondering the question. "Would our lives be easier? Hell yeah. Would we be happier? Y'know, I actually don't think so."

Another nod. "Me too."

"We're so messed up."

"Tell me about it."

* * *

**A/N:** To those who know me over on LiveJournal, for some reason my computer throws a wobbly whenever I try to do more than look at my Friends Page. I'm not ignoring y'all, I'm just experienceing technical difficulties. Email me if there are burning issues, or if you just want a chat. Goodness knows I'm in need of conversation that doesn't start 'I hate this kid in my class because...' 


	6. Coping

* * *

**6. Coping**

* * *

Appetite sated, thirst quenched and eyes drooping, Kimiko allows her head to lower onto her chest. Sounds of washing up emanate from the kitchen. She leans against the doorframe, a wall between her and the dirty dishes she's been forbidden to touch. Alternate world or not, this Clay is still the height of hospitality.

The temple kitchen is just as she remembers it – large, welcoming, full of the delicious smells of past meals and looking as though it's evolved through use rather than careful planning, unlike her mother's kitchen.

She squashes the pang that always erupts at thoughts of her parents. Instead she savours a stuffed belly and the promise of a bed without rocks under it. She wonders how her personal area looks in this world. Will it still have that Gackt poster she liked so much? Does this world's Kimiko even like Gackt?

"Hey," says a familiar drawl.

She squints her eyes open. Clay has emerged from the kitchen – her Clay, not the softer version of this world. He looks closely at her, and then hitches up the waistband of his pants, which are a little too big.

"You okay?"

"Better than I've been in a long time."

"That's good. 'Cause I was worried, with how you acted before, that you were havin' trouble … copin'." He doesn't bother to specify what _with_. They both know, and they've developed a rapport based on saying things without saying them. It's one of the things she likes most about Clay. He's full of the worst, most clichéd down-home southern phrases she's ever had the misfortune to hear, but he can also cut to the heart of difficult matters in under a sentence. She can trust him not to lie to make her feel better.

"I was. But I'm better now."

"Not completely."

"No," she's forced to admit. "Not completely. But better." She glances sideways at him. "I'm still not going home."

"You keep sayin' that."

"Because I get the feeling you still don't believe me. I mean it, Clay. If it turns out we can stay here, I want to. What's wrong with grabbing the chance at a better life?"

"The people we left behind?"

Guilt flares in her gut. She looks away. "It's all academic anyway. We don't even know how we _got_ here, let alone how to get back, so let's just cross that bridge when we come to it."

"A cliché? From you? I'm shocked an' dismayed, Kimiko Tohomiko!"

She smiles despite herself. "Idiot."

Clay smiles too. Then all at once it drops away and he takes up one of her hands, face as earnest as she's ever seen it. "Kimiko, tell me straight now. The way you've been since we got here … with this universe's Raimundo an' all … Now, this may sound stupider than a pig tryin' to whistle, but is it … he was already gone from back home when we …" He looks down. "Aw, tarnation! This is hard to say without comin' out soundin' selfish as a mean ol' tomcat!"

Kimiko lays her right hand over where his larger one has captured her left. "Look me in the eye. Go on, do it." Staring straight into his baby-blues, she says slowly and clearly, "Clay Bailey, I am not looking to exchange you for this world's Raimundo. I know the way we got together wasn't the best, and I know you sometimes worry that we're only a couple because Rai was … not around anymore, but I'll say it for the last time – I love _you_, got it? Not our Rai, not this Rai, not _any _Rai. You. Now will you stop being such a big galoot and stop doubting yourself?"

A hangdog look crosses his face. "I'm sorry. But can you blame me? You an' he were always so close – all them sparks when you talked an' all. Just look at _this_ world's Kimiko and Raimundo. They sure got enough sparks to set light to dry tinder." There had been quite a few flare-ups between the two of them during the meeting, and it's obvious there's chemistry there, even if it never amounts to anything.

"Except that things are different here. That just happens to be one of them."

"You sure?"

"Didn't you hear me? We've been through so much together; how could you ever doubt what we have? I love you, Clay, and nobody else. Accept it!" She jumps up and plants a kiss on his lips that defies him to argue more.

It lasts slightly longer than anticipated when Clay holds her to him. She starts to understand how being in this alternate world is affecting him just as deeply as it is her. He doesn't _cling _to her, but she knows that she's his anchor. Without each other they'd be swamped: by the magnitude of the unfair differences between this idyllic dimension and their own, and by what they stand to lose whether they stay here or go home.

A cough breaks them apart. The other Clay is standing in the doorway, blushing madly.

"Whoops," Kimiko hears as her feet touch the floor. She holds her own Clay's hand as they turn to face him.

"Uh," the other Clay mumbles, "I'm-I'm to tell y'all that your beds are p-prepared."

"Thanks," says Kimiko.

He drags his hat down over his eyes. "If anyone asks, I didn't see nuthin'."

"We ain't tryin' to make y'all feel uncomfortable. It's just been a big day for us."

"Oh, I get it. It's just me – I mean, you! Uhm, and Kimiko? That sure jars my preserves, if you'll pardon my sayin' so. Round these parts, me an' Kimiko ain't got even half what you guys got. Can't see much chance of it ever getting' that way, neither."

"Things're different here. That just happens to be one of 'em," Clay says, catching Kimiko's eye. "Though I gotta say, you don't know what you're missin', fellah."

The other Clay's colour deepens even further, until it seems like he'll require a blood transfusion just to keep it going. He's cute as a button, and she almost says so, but for the feeling of her own Clay's fingers through hers. Instead, she agrees to follow him through the temple to the personal areas, where a spare set of pyjamas awaits her.

She can hear Raimundo and Omi breathing. It's a reassuring and much missed sound. Of her double, however, there is no sign, so she undresses quickly and crawls into one of the two bedrolls without thought of brushing her teeth.

Sleep claws insistently at her eyelids. Even the strangeness of being back in the temple isn't enough to dissuade it. She's just surrendering when the curtain is pushed aside and her double comes in.

Kimiko hears the hitched breath that, she assumes, is a reaction to her own presence, but nothing is said and she offers no comment. After a few minutes' bustling, the other Kimiko also lays down. She blows out the candle she brought in, too.

As if this abrupt absence of light is a signal, Kimiko suddenly remembers her protective charm. Fumbling beneath the pyjama top, she unclasps it and bundles it under her pillow, as is her custom. It jingles sweetly.

"What _is _that?" whispers the other Kimiko. Her eyes gleam in the near-darkness.

"A charm. My moth- Mommy got it for me from the shrine that last time I saw her; to keep me safe."

"_Mommy _did that?"

"Uh-huh. I was … pretty banged up when they flew me back to Japan. I didn't realise how bad I must've looked until she and Daddy tried to stop me coming back to the temple. The charm was a sort of compromise – they weren't going to stop me, but it made Mommy feel better that I had something from her to keep me safe."

"Seriously? Man…"

Silence.

Sometimes you can gauge the flavour of silences by how long they last. This once tastes like awkwardness.

Kimiko realises she hasn't been very nice to her double since arriving here. It's easier to react to Omi, Raimundo, Dojo, Master Fung, and even another version of Clay, than it is to react to another version of herself. The trouble is she knows her own mind, and she knows how she thinks. Being confronted with someone who might look at and consider _her_ in the same way that she considers the rest of the world is unsettling. It plays havoc with her sense of self, too.

Still, if she plans to make good on her desire to stay in this world, they're going to see each other, and she can't pussyfoot forever.

"Thanks for sharing with me," she says, trying to build bridges.

"You're welcome."

"I know this must be weird for you."

"Meh. You get used to weird, doing this job."

"Yeah, well … thanks anyway."

Crickets chirp. A tumbleweed blows past Kimiko's head.

"So tell me," she goes on, reaching for something to say and clunking against her conversation with Clay, "you and Raimundo. Anything there?"

If the other Kimiko were drinking, a magnificent spit-take would have followed. As it is, she splutters, "Are you kidding? He makes me so mad I'd like to kick his ass from here to Timbuktu! I've had foot fungus with more appeal."

"So _are_ you involved?"

"No." It's the kind of no that says 'why are you asking'?

"Clay – that is, my Clay – reckoned you two have … how'd he put it? Oh yeah, 'enough sparks to set light to dry tinder'."

"Well he's wrong. Rai and I are friends, and half the time we're just tolerating each other. There's nothing _remotely _romantic about our relationship, and I'm happy about that. So's he."

"Are you sure?"

"Of course I'm sure! Rai's more interested in big-busted women in skimpy bikinis who'll giggle and compliment his surfboard. And _I _am not interested in someone with an ego the size of the Sahara. After I left you earlier, I had to go chew him out for picking on poor Omi. The guy's a Grade A jerk, even if he is a good leader."

"He's really a good leader?"

"Bizarrely, yes. He saved our bacon the last time we had an alternate timeline glitch." The other Kimiko cursorily explains the run-up to the selection of leader, and how Omi's misunderstanding of temporal physics nearly ruined them all. She even explained about Chase Young, and how difficult it had been to reconcile their memories of Chase the Xiaolin Master with Chase Young, evil tyrant.

Someone stirs a few feet away at this point, mumbling sleepily. The conversation between the two Kimikos continues in even softer whispers.

It feels odd – almost like the girl-talks she used to have back at school in Tokyo, only more personal. She can't forget that this is almost herself she's talking to. This is another Kimiko Tohomiko. Could this be counted as schizophrenia? Multiple Personality Disorder?

"Wow. I never would've pegged Raimundo as good leadership material. Of course, my Rai never got to that stage in his training, so maybe he would've been great and we just never knew it."

Another silence ensues. The quality of this one is what follows the moment when the waiter drops a towering pile of trays on the tiled floor.

_Damn._

Eventually, the other Kimiko speaks. "Is it … hard to talk about him?"

"A little. Not very. He was a good guy. I miss him a lot – we both do. When I saw your Raimundo -"

"He's not my Raimundo!"

"-The Raimundo of this universe, it was just such a shock that my brain shut down a little. I'm not, actually, as freaky as you might think. Even though you're obviously very uncomfortable with what Clay and I have."

"Weird as it is to say it, you and Clay make a nice couple. At least you're not all goofy around each other. My brain doesn't need half the scrubbing I thought it would when I first realised you're … involved. But Clay – I mean this Clay, my Clay, only not _my _Clay, you understand, just my Clay as in the Clay of this universe, which is mine … uh … oh, nuts, this is confusing."

"Tell me about it. This morning I thought the high point of my day would be finding some non-poisonous berries to eat. Now I'm acclimatising to a whole different _world._"

"In bite size, easy-to-swallow chunks, it goes like this: you and your Clay? Cute couple. Clay and me? Not happening. Raimundo and me? Train wreck. Complete no-hoper. Nothing to see here, move along please."

"Got it."

"I'm serious. I'd rather knee him in the nuts than kiss him."

"Who said anything about kissing?"

"Uh … hey, it's late, and you must be tired. All that jumping worlds stuff; inter-dimensional travel's gotta take it out of you, so you should get some sleep. Goodnight."

"Yeah. Goodnight."

Apparently, Kimiko thinks as she snuggles down, it's the same in all universes. She remembers how she used to almost-feel about Rai when he was still alive. It never got far enough along to _be _anything, but she remembers how she felt when he died and Dashi took his place – the grief and sense of loss that sharpened her mind to a point and made everything that came after seem clearer. Her feelings for Rai were strongest when they were impossible. She's been a lot more honest with herself and what she wants from her life since then – better at recognising things, too, a skill that this other Kimiko hasn't yet grasped. Love does indeed make the world go round.

_One of the many things it has in common with severe concussion. _

* * *


	7. Phonecall

* * *

**7. Phonecall **

* * *

The next day dawns bright and clear. Extraordinarily, Master Fung allows his pupils to sleep in after the events of the previous night. They awake mid-morning to find sunshine pouring into the temple like melted butter looking for a lobster.

After stumbling into breakfast and ascertaining that, yes, it was all real, they get down to the serious business of eating and only look up when Master Fung arrives, followed by Dojo, and tells them that he's sent for Master Monk Guan to help figure out how their inter-dimensional visitors got here, and what ramifications there may be. In the meantime, they're to go out for a regular unsupervised training session before chores.

"Ugh, chores," the other Kimiko groans. She's wearing a spare uniform, which hangs off her a little but has been belted tight. "I'd forgotten that part of normal life."

"You can do my share, too, to help you settle in," says Raimundo, though his smile is a little strained and his eyes flash uneasily at her. "I don't mind."

"Thanks, but I'm sure, as leader, your sense of responsibility will stop you from taking advantage of the situation for your own gain."

"Uh … sure," he replies, watching Master Fung's aerobic eyebrow. "My sense of responsibility. Right."

The training session is an interesting study in their differing fighting techniques. Since the Shen Gong Wu of the other world were so unreliable, the other Kimiko and Clay have developed a more basic, visceral style. They're no less devastating, however – though unrefined, their powers have great strength and work well when used together. They blow through one of Omi's favourite courses in under a minute, arriving on the other side without a scratch and with a crushed and burning mess in their wake.

It's almost a competition. Kimiko finds herself thinking of Omi, Raimundo, Clay and herself as the 'home team', defending their rep. By the time the session is over, everyone is dripping sweat and panting like overheated dogs. The temple grounds are missing several chunks, and debris is dumped everywhere, but everyone is too invigorated to care that they'll have to clean up later. Kimiko can't remember when she last had so much fun _training_.

She excuses herself so she can go change into dry clothes, and is surprised when her doppelganger elects to stay with the icky sweaty boys. It's like she doesn't even _care _about personal hygiene – or perhaps she's too wrapped up in their company to interrupt it with a shower. She stares intently at Omi while he waxes lyrical about the Treasure of the Blind Swordsman, and Kimiko watches her a little before taking her leave.

However, she doesn't head straight for the washroom. Instead, she just dabs hastily at her face with her sleeves, grabs her cell phone and wedges herself in the eaves of the Shen Gong Wu Vault, where it's cooler and she can be certain of a little privacy at this time of day. She may be stinky, but if her doppelganger can stand it then so can she.

The line doesn't connect at first, but after a few moments of echoey clicking she hears the telltale whirr. Her toes wiggle in her shoes.

Clack. "Tohomiko household. Tohomiko Suguri speaking."

"Mommy?"

"_Kimiko?_ Hold on. No, no, I wanted _orange _not pink. No they will not suffice! Do you see any orange in this room? Take them back, please, and provide me with what I have ordered and paid for. And be quick about it! I have seen faster snails. My apologies, Kimiko. Decorators. Such imbeciles. Dropouts to a one."

Kimiko forces herself to relax. Her mother's familiar snappiness has made the hairs on her arms stand on end. There's a reason she never introduced the guys to Suguri Tohomiko when they went to Tokyo that time. Mrs. Tohomiko would probably take one look and demand her daughter came home _that very instant_ so they couldn't corrupt her marriageability one iota more.

Like many older Japanese women, emancipation only cuts so much ice with Mrs. Tohomiko – about as much as a soap hacksaw. She still holds true to the idea that every girl needs a husband and should one day produce children and keep home for him. It's about as far from Kimiko's worldview as possible. Until she was rescued and sent to the Conservatory, (or Whiz Kid Academy, as she dubbed it) the life her mother had planned for her was all she had to look forward to after the free rein Papa allowed her in childhood. The thought of her narrow escape still makes her queasy.

Yet what she learned last night weighs heavy on her conscience. The sadness in her double's voice when she talked about that little charm; the shine of her eyes, just visible in the gloom…

"Why are you calling my cell, Kimiko? Are you all right? Do you want to come home?" The eagerness in her mother's voice makes Kimiko want to hang up, but she doesn't.

"No. I just … called for a talk."

"Oh. Well, your father's not here right now, but I'm sure you can reach him at his office -"

"No, Mommy, not with Papa. I just called to talk to _you_."

"Me? Why? What do you want?"

"_Nothing_!"

"The last time you called me you wanted to borrow a kimono – which I believe ended up ruined and in a dumpster outside your Uncle Shinji's restaurant."

"Uh…"

"Can you be brief? I'm very busy.""

Typical. They haven't talked in months and Mrs. Tohomiko's still willing to sacrifice her daughter to the spirits of interior decorating. She's done every room in the house at least three times, and that's just _this_ house. Last time she got bored of dressing and redressing rooms she made her husband move to a bigger place.

Kimiko sets her jaw. She won't give up. Not this time. Xiaolin warriors are known for their tenacity, right? Never give up, never give in, even when the whole universe has imploded around you? Sound familiar? "Because … we don't talk much."

"You never have anything to say to me that I want to hear. Like you've realised how ridiculous this 'Xiaolin monk' fad is and you're coming home on the midnight plane from Shanghai."

Screw Xiaolin tenacity. Kimiko starts to hang up – when suddenly the wan face of her doppelganger flashes into her mind. _Damn it_."Mommy," she gabbles, words pouring from her mouth like sand in an egg-timer, "I wanted to tell you that I … thatIloveyou."

"_Kimiko_. That's …" Her mother pauses, as if searching for words – or perhaps making frantic hand gestures at whoever she's with. 'My daughter's been abducted by aliens and her replacement is really starting to freak me out!' "That's very sweet of you," she says at last. "I'm sure I don't know _what's_ brought this on. Honestly, such outpourings down a phone line – it's rather distasteful. I'd expect better after all the money your father lavished on your education. All the manners of an uncultured troglodyte. What happened to all those etiquette lessons we paid so much for? Incorrigible, absolutely incorrigible." The snappishness is back in her voice, as though she's irritated with Kimiko for springing that on her.

Kimiko's thumb touches the 'call terminate' button. Her stomach is distributed between her kneecaps, but jerks upwards at the next, unexpected words.

"But I suppose I can't say I'm upset about it."

"Excuse me?"

"I'm saying you're right, you silly girl. We don't talk nearly enough. I barely know what's going on in your life anymore. Oh, wait – be careful, you stupid man! Can't you see you're going to knock things over if you swing about like that?"

The rest of the call passes uneventfully. Mrs. Tohomiko tells her daughter all about the new décor of their Okoyama house, so different than their Ginza house, and Kimiko makes appropriate noises. When her mother asks how things are in the temple, however, she doesn't mention the other Clay and Kimiko. Mrs. Tohomiko may be conservative, but she does love her daughter. She complains bitterly, and frequently makes noises about forcing her to leave the Dragons, but she _did _allow her to go live in _China_ – even though Kimiko's still, technically, a minor. Nevertheless, tales of alternate dimensions and the things that go on there may be too much for her to handle – especially over the phone.

Afterwards, Kimiko closes her cell and presses the aerial to her lips. It's astonishing, but speaking to her mother hasn't left her with the usual bad taste in her mouth. In fact, she thinks she actually feels cheered after talking to her. There was something comforting in hearing about boring stuff like decorating the kitchen.

When she leaves the Vault, it's to find her own gaunt face looking back at her.

The other Kimiko doesn't comment, but she eyes the cell phone and purses her lips in a knowing sort of way, before hefting a full bucket of water across the courtyard towards the steps Omi and Raimundo are already scrubbing.

And so pass the next few days. Master Fung and Dojo continue to work on understanding the hows, whys and wheres, while the other Kimiko and Clay work on integrating themselves into daily temple life.

Luckily, daily life chooses not to involve any rogue monsters or attacks from the forces of evil. They're probably still licking their wounds, and Kimiko finds it isn't _so_ bad having another couple of Dragons around, even with the freakiness factor. It certainly makes the chores easier – even if they do just create more for themselves by churning up the scenery when they train.

* * *

**Author's Notes:**

In this chapter Kimiko's relationship with her mother makes reference to her 'marriageability', which may sound odd given what we know of Kimiko's personality in the show. To explain it I feel the need to point out something about women in Japan.

Susan Napier writes that Japan has gone through one of the biggest ever cultural overhauls since 1945, typified by its economy, its embrace of technology, and the changing roles of its population. In particular 'the growing independence of women and the changing role of the family' show the country's uneasy relationship between tradition and modernisation (pg.140). Traditionally Japanese women are seen as passive holders of established gender roles (wife, mother, homemaker etc.) and appearances: 'Carefully made up faces, painted lips, plucked eyebrows … their bodies carefully rounded, straightened, padded, into the current shapes for breasts, waists, hips' (Scov and Moeren: 1995: pg.1). They were expected to devote themselves to these roles and strive after the ultimate happiness, which is to say, marrying and producing a family. It's only in relatively recent times (historically speaking) that they've begun to break away from these stereotypes. Granted, it's a sweeping statement to say _all _Japanese women _always_ adhered to these roles, but in modern times it's become more acceptable for them to hold other positions, such as those held by their Western counterparts. This has not been fully accepted in all corners, however, resulting in a curious half-Western, half-Japanese double-standard that women are expected to live up to.

Kimiko represents the next step in this relationship: she isn't so closely bound by tradition as previous generations, but her mother, one step behind her on the scale, still expects her to fulfil the usual role that she herself did when she married Mr. Tohomiko. She's not being mean, or anti-feminist, nor is she trying to make her daughter miserable; she's only giving voice to the common feelings of her generation. Somehow Kimiko, like many young Japanese girls, is supposed to adopt the freedoms of a more liberal society without giving up on the customs of the old; she is supposed to be both conservative and progressive at the same time – something fundamentally difficult, if not impossible. She thus embodies the identity crisis facing Japan, not just in its gender wars, but in its whole national consciousness.

And this is where I get a kick up the arse for being so pedantic about fanon for a cartoon character.

**Bibliography:**

Napier, S. J. 2001 _Anime from Akira to Princess Mononoke: Experiencing Contemporary Japanese Animation_. Palgrave: New York.

Skov, L. and Moeran, B. (Eds.) 1995 _Women and Media Consumption in Japan_. Curzon Press: Surrey.

* * *


	8. Sleep

* * *

**8. Sleep**

* * *

Kimiko lurches upright. Her head throbs, and her mouth feels like sandpaper. Trembling and trying not to think, even though that's what she's supposed to be good at – the thinker, the genius, the child prodigy – she stares into the gloom and waits for her heartbeat to slow. She wishes her brain, and in particular her photographic memory, would shut down like a crashing computer. Instead it keeps repeating the dream over and over in her head, like a CD with a track on repeat, until she wishes she really did have a CD drive in her brain so it would have a chance of breaking.

"You okay?" The voice comes from the bedroll next to her and is full of concern.

"Yeah. Sure. I'm fine," she replies, obviously anything but. Her words have a rough edge, and her breath comes in quick little gasps.

"Did you have a bad dream?"

She swallows hard. It doesn't help. "Yeah. Yeah, I did."

"Hang on." The other girl scrambles for a match. A few moments later the candle flares. Kimiko likes how it chases back the shadows and stares with her knees pulled to her chest until the backs of her eyes start to ache.

"Is that better?" asks the other Kimiko, pushing her feet back into her warm nest of messy blankets. She sleeps like cooked spaghetti, muscles relaxed and limbs thrown every which way – very unlike Kimiko's own compact foetal ball. "Man, you look awful."

"I could use a glass of water."

"I'll go with you to the kitchen, and you can tell me all about it. It helps to share dreams. Makes them less scary. Trust me on this one – we had an incident a while back where fear and dreams tried to chew us up into dogmeat. Talking? _So _much a good thing."

She could argue, of course. She could refuse. She'd be perfectly within her rights to clam up. After all, what business is it of anyone else what she dreams about? Yet she pads along the darkened corridors in her borrowed Hello Kitty slippers, sits at the replacement kitchen table with a tumbler of water, and listens with some surprise, as the story of the graveyard dream tumbles from her lips like dry rice pouring into a bubbling saucepan.

Until tonight, the dream has left her alone since she got here. She supposes exhaustion just robbed her of dreams altogether, but she did rather hope it meant she was finally free of it. No such luck, obviously.

The other Kimiko's eyes widen as she listens to how the dream started, grew, and plagued her throughout months of torture from the Shade. She winces when she hears about Raimundo's name appearing on a headstone, and reaches out to touch Kimiko's hand when she relates tonight's version, with the newly installed markers of Omi, Master Fung, Jack and Dojo.

"It's dumb, I know – just my subconscious giving me a chance to grieve because I'm unhealthy and don't let it out as much as I should during the day. I know all that. But … the dream's very realistic. I can feel the ground under my feet, and when I'm yelling at them for dying I wake up with a sore throat. Sometimes … sometimes I even think I can smell stuff. Soil. Mulch. Wood-smoke."

"I don't think it's dumb."

Kimiko knocks back what's left of her glass. "Thanks. For listening. I only ever told Clay about it before, and he has enough nightmares of his own to worry about." And she's shocked to discover she's sincere. She _is _grateful for the company, even with something so private.

Especially with something so private.

_I can't go back_, she thinks for the millionth time since they got here. _Whatever happens, I can't go back. Not now. Not after all this. I can't._

More to the point, I **won't**. 

They return to bed and sink into sleep – one deep, the other restless. Not wanting to risk the dream again. Kimiko tosses and turns until sunup, then rises blearily and goes through the morning like a zombie.

The boys are concerned, and question her about it – her Clay with a shrewd look in his eye – but she waves them away with feeble excuses about headaches and girl problems.

In the cold light of day she feels stupid for being so distressed. Omi, Raimundo and this universe's Clay have accepted them into their clan, and pester her until she seeks refuge in the place she saw the other Kimiko when she wanted peace and quiet to make a phone call – the eaves of the Shen Gong Wu Vault.

However, she finds no respite there.

"Hey!" calls the other Kimiko. She's been missing all morning, sweeping out the dusty records room and replacing any discarded scrolls in their rightful places. She brandishes a small drawstring pouch, as if it will tempt her tired doppelganger down to ground level. "I've got something for you."

Kimiko sighs, but descends. There's no peace in the rafters anyway. Wood pigeons have made a nest there, and their constant cooing is less relaxing than expected. "What is it?"

The other Kimiko tosses the pouch into the air for her to catch. "Sleeping draught. I asked the Infirmary monks to rustle up a batch for you. Guarantees a good night's sleep – only one drawback."

"And that is?"

She winks. "No dreams after you take it."

Kimiko stares at her, and then down at the little pouch. The Infirmary monks … how can she not have thought of this before?

Probably because she couldn't afford to be unconscious in case the Shade showed up at their door. At least the bad dreams made her a light sleeper. Yet in this world she has no need of wakefulness to ensure her survival. In this world she is – dare she even think it? – safe.

"Thank you," she says; and once again she's unexpectedly sincere.

What happened to the barely concealed loathing she first felt when confronted with her double? Where did her boiling resentment go? This girl's still had all the chances she never did, but … Kimiko's bitterness has dimmed. This is not a perfect world, and her doppelganger is not a happy fluffy bunnie with sparkles for brains.

Not completely, anyway.

"No biggie." The other Kimiko scuffs the floor with one neon green Doc Martin. It seems she has yet more to say. "Listen, you know as well as I do that my relationship with Mommy isn't the best in the world, but I've been speaking to her a lot lately. We're not, like, best friends or anything, but things are … better than they have been in a while. Since I was a little girl, actually – but then you probably know that part already, right? Anyway, I was kind of thinking about, y'know, maybe taking a trip home? Since it doesn't seem like she'll kidnap me and lock me in m room so I can't come back here. And … I kinda, sorta wondered … um … hey, you want to come back to Japan with me for a while? I haven't told Mommy or Papa about you yet, but since you're me, and Papa has this humungous ability to cope with weird stuff that cancels out Mommy's lack of ability – and actually, she's been working on that since we started talking again, so that I could, y'know, _tell _her about my day apart from 'yeah, I did chores again, they were awful and my hands are covered in only slightly more calluses than my butt after I kept falling on it during training for that thing we're not supposed to talk about'." She pauses, apparently to collect her scattered thoughts. "Er, yeah. So, Japan. Meet the folks. Could be fun. You in?"

All at once the feelings return. An image flashes across Kimiko's brain, trailing a searing aftertaste of acrimony and suppressed regret: her mother and father the last time she saw them, staring up the gangway, unhappy at her decision to go back to China but stoic. Even her father wore an uncharacteristic despondent expression. It hurts to think how she never saw them again after that last, sour note – and how she couldn't allow herself to regret her decision, because at least she was given the chance to make it. Raimundo was already gone by then, Omi an orphan, and Clay … he never said anything, but she knows not seeing his family is a wrench. Even Jessie is sorely missed.

Her eyes flash, and her doppelganger cowers. Words course through Kimiko's brain: Cruel bitch. Stupid girl. Unfair! All wrong. Insensitive little –

She stops, takes a deep breath, and gathers herself.

"Just try and keep me away."

* * *


	9. Jack

* * *

**9. Jack**

* * *

They make plans.

It's not a smooth process.

The other Kimiko sometimes radiates elation, sometimes bitterness, and other times blistering anger, with no discernable trigger patterns. These can turn a conversation about airport arrival lounges into a tirade and a burning fist-print on the tabletop.

Kimiko learns how to anticipate an explosion, and either steers the conversation in another direction, or removes herself from the firing line. In other circumstances she might have fought her corner, but instead she retreats and leaves the other Kimiko to work out her own frustrations. There's no point in making an issue out of it when it truly can't be helped, and most of the time she's perfectly rational.

The other Clay has a habit of appearing just when his love has flown into a tizzy, and though he doesn't attempt to calm her down either, he does talk to Kimiko. In this way she comes to _really_ understand the parts of their life and their world her doppelganger neglected to mention.

"She feels mighty guilty."

"Guilty? But it wasn't her fault -"

"Don't matter. Survivor guilt, see? Makes her tetched from time to time."

"But not you?"

"Now that'd be tellin'."

In this way the two girls reach a compromise, and provisionally arrange to visit Tokyo in two weeks time. Kimiko finds she's kind of looking forward and dreading it at the same time.

Master Monk Guan arrives and takes up residence in the temple. He's a calming presence, and doesn't even flinch when confronted with his own fate in the other world. Kimiko supposes he's been around so long, and seen so much that alternate worlds are no biggie for him. She wishes she could be so blasé, but she's getting better. It's no longer quite so surreal to wake up and see her own furrowed brow in the next bedroll.

He works indefatigably with Master Fung and Dojo. They inspect the broken table, the walls and floor where they appeared, and summon the doppelgangers to master Fung's quarters, grilling for details about their last battle with the Shade. What sort of magick did Grand Master Dashi use? What did it look like? What words did he say? Was he interrupted before he could finish? They answer as best they can. It takes hours. Afterwards the other Kimiko goes straight to the training ground to smash things.

She's so _turbulent_. She's stabilised a lot since they first arrived, but her edges are still noticeably jagged, and she still has a fuse the size of an ant's kneecap. She's better when her Clay is around; and right after venting when she's too exhausted for her emotions to engulf her. In those moments she can act almost normal, and grows gradually more so the longer they spend at the temple. The old grey stones draw out her bitterness like you might suck venom from a snakebite. Once or twice Kimiko finds herself sitting back and just appreciating the difference.

For her part she feels exculpated, like she's helping to perform some great act of compassion, righting a wrong she hadn't even known she committed. It gives her a warm, happy glow, like that kid in the Oaty Oatmeal commercial back home.

So it is that she barely looks up when, three days later, her doppelganger appears in the kitchen doorway when she's in there shelling peas for dinner. A glance shows the other Kimiko is muddy, her outfit torn, and her hair looks like it's been combed with a hedge. That's pretty typical, but something else makes Kimiko look again. Rather than relaxed, the other girl looks more keyed up than ever. She crackles with so much energy she's nearly throwing off sparks.

Kimiko sets down the peas. "What is it?"

"Jackbots are attacking the temple."

"Aw, man. Just when I was getting used to all the peace and quiet."

They hurry outside. Master Monk Guan, Master Fung and Dojo left this morning to talk with the hermit who lives in a cave in the mountains, who talks to animals and has probably forgotten more magick than they'll ever learn. The young Dragons are in charge, and of course that means time is ripe for a crisis.

The other Kimiko was quite right: a bevy of jackbots hang in the air by the Shen Gong Wu Vault, weapons out and facing off against the two Clays. Neither side has made a move yet. It's like some bizarre modern art tableaux.

"Where's Jack?" Kimiko asks, joining them. Not one jackbot reacts.

As if in answer, a mangled helipack rotor hurtles out the Vault door, closely followed by its owner. Omi lands lightly at the foot of the steps, posing, and Raimundo emerges behind him.

"Dude, don't do that. You look like a model at the end of a runway."

"Run away? Why would I do that when I am victorious?"

Jack groans. "I swear you understand more than you say you do. Nobody's that naive." He's holding his arm where he landed awkwardly, and Kimiko feels her doppelganger stiffen beside her.

This is the first time anybody's attacked the temple since the doubles got here. That it's Jack makes things all the more complicated – in their world Jack is (was) a teammate, but in this one he's not. He tried to be once, but failed dismally (though Omi still maintains he didn't, in fact, betray them at all, but rather betrayed himself). Things never got that far in that far-distant world. There, Wuya was eaten by the Shade, which also blew up Jack's house, and he united with the Xiaolin Dragons because he had nowhere else to go. Though there were subsequent opportunities for him to leave, he showed a surprising fortitude that gives credence to Omi's theory, and stuck by them in their fight until the Shade took his soul too. He was, Kimiko considers, a hero.

But that was there, and this is here.

And that's Jack calling up another phalanx of jackbots to surround and fire on them.

Kimiko cartwheels out of the way and wishes she'd thought to bring her weapons with her. But this is just Jack, and the day she can't beat him and his toys without heavy artillery is the day she trades her signed Gackt album for extra algebra homework.

"Water!" Omi slaps away three jackbots with a flick of his wrist. "Do you not ever learn, Jack Spicer? You fail so many times, yet you still employ this same strategy over and over again."

"You're one to talk," Jack replies from behind a pot plant. He's working furiously to reattach his helipack rotor and squealing whenever shrapnel whizzes past. "I thought you already learned your lesson about the Ring of the Nine Dragons."

"Excuse me?"

"The doubles, Chrome Dome. How'd you manage to make use the Wu on two people, anyhow?"

"Oh, they are not from Shen Gong Wu. They are -"

"A new form of magick we're using to kick your butt," Raimundo interrupts. "Consider yourself a crash test dummy, Spicer." He bicycle-kicks a jackbot head at the pot plant and grins.

Kimiko understands that Rai doesn't want Jack to know the doppelgangers' true nature in case he uses it against them, or passes the information on to someone who might have more sinister uses for whatever brought them here. Until they know more about that mysterious magick, it's better to keep it under wraps.

Omi looks puzzled, though, and tries to ask Raimundo what he's thinking when an enormous thump resounds across the courtyard. It sounds like a car being dumped into a crusher.

The two Clays look up from their pile of destroyed jackbots. The other Kimiko pauses, a handful of sparking wires clutched in her fist. She ripped them from a bot's chest like a still-beating heart, and stands like a carved tribute to some violent deity. They all listen to the strange noise.

"Ha!" Jack crows, rising into the air. He wobbles a little thanks to the bent rotor, but gloats regardless. "Cower in fear, Xiaolin Losers, at my greatest ever creation. Behold, _the Jackinator_!"

The pale facsimile looms over the temple's highest tower, casting them in shadow. It leans over, as if they're so small it has to squint just to acknowledge them, and Kimiko can see the red-painted studs holding the goggles to its head. The robot is jerky and menacing, built like an aircraft carrier and elegant as a big stick with a nail through the end, but it does look exactly like Jack – gigantism thing excepted, obviously. Bazookas sit on its shoulders like lapels, and each button of its titanium coat clearly hides a weapon of some kind. Its fingertips are bayonets, and its coattails glitter with a sharpness to rival the Sword of the Storm. It glares down at the assembled Dragons, and Kimiko feels like there's something approaching intelligence in those luminous red eyes.

She isn't frightened, but she does back up a step.

"Who's the crash test dummy now?" Jack cups his ear. "What's that? I can't heeeear youuuu."

Raimundo throws himself at the Jackinator. It sweeps him aside with one massive hand, and he crashes into a wall. The bayonets miss by millimetres. When he turns it reveals an uneven tear down the back of his shirt.

"Great plan, fearless leader," Kimiko snipes. "I think General Custer tried something similar."

"Clam up and melt that thing," he retorts, clinging to the brickwork by his fingertips. "Omi, fetch some Wu."

"You didn't bring any out with you?"

"It's Jack, Kimiko. _Jack._"

Omi, the closest, tries to dart through the Vault doorway, but the Jackinator moves with surprising speed to block his way. He snaps a kick at its legs, but plates on its kneecaps peel back to reveal –

"Mister Won! Mister Ton!"

The two monks who man the Infirmary writhe in their bonds. They're each strapped down by their ankles, wrists and waists, and serve as a human shield for the Jackinator. If the Dragons cut it down, it will fall on its knees and crush them. If they force it to move too much its joints will stretch them until they break in two. Small lasers zip into view next to each man's head, further emphasising how much is at stake if the Dragons try to fight this giant opponent.

Kimiko gapes. She talked to Mister Won just this morning about more sleeping draught for her doppelganger. He rubbed a wrinkly hand through her hair in that way she hates, but can't bring herself to reprimand him for. How on earth did Spicer kidnap him and Mister Ton without anyone noticing? Her eyes darken as she regards the kindly old men who have tended the young Dragons' every wound since the day they came to the temple. Mister Won is seventy and blind in one eye, while Mister Ton can only walk by means of a rattan cane. They're not helpless, but they're not fighters either.

"This is low even for you, Spicer," she yells.

"Hey, don't act like you're surprised. Every time we meet I introduce myself as Jack Spicer, _Evil_ Boy Genius. The clue is in the title."

"Fly from my path, foul fiend!" Omi alliterates.

The Jackinator just looks at him. Unlike his smaller Robo-Jacks, Spicer has elected not to give this one moveable expressions. Its face is an immutable glower, which it now fixes on Omi. It raises a foot to stomp on him, and at its knee Mister Won howls with pain as his body elongates.

"Stop!" Omi cries. "Halt! Desist! I am taking back what I said! Stay where you are! Do not move, uh, lovely creature who is so tall and … and … handsome?"

The Jackinator pauses. It seems to consider his words, and then lowers its foot.

It's still blocking the door to the Vault, and Spicer's still laughing exultantly. Mister Won whimpers, but he's still alive at least.

Kimiko matches the Jackinator's glare with her own.

As sticky moments go, this is a full scale toffee pudding. Jack descends, and until that moment Kimiko didn't realise you could fly and swagger at the same time. She clenches her fists, wondering what to do, and whether Raimundo will show off those strategising skills and bark out a plan for them to follow – when suddenly someone else barks in a voice like a whip cracking.

"How could you?!"

Everyone turns to look, including Jack, so he's facing the doppelganger Kimiko when she thuds into him. They roll over across the cobbles in a tangle of limbs, and the reattached helipack rotor comes off again, grounding them both. Nobody moves, as not one of them understands what is going on – not even the second Clay.

Jack squeals, but adjoins it with the words: "I like this one, she doesn't mind hugging me! Hey, don't glue these two halves of Kimiko back together. I'll take one and you take one and everybody can be happy."

"You idiot!" the doppelganger screams in his face.

"Huh?"

"Don't you know what you've done?"

Jack blinks. "Finally beaten you losers?"

"You should've come to join us, not to beat us!"

"Tried that once. It didn't take." He attempts to push her off, but she's leaning her weight against him. It's not much, but Jack is far feebler than he should be given how much running away he does. Plus he seems to enjoy having her sit on top of him.

"What do you expect to gain from all this? Shen Gong Wu? Take the stupid things, but Jack, don't stay evil. It's not you."

"I really like this one!" Jack cries, but also frowns. "And I am too evil. Why does nobody believe I can make it on my own? I don't need Wuya or Chase or Hannibal Roy Bean to be a villain. I can do it just fine on my lonesome."

"You're not evil!" There's a slight crazed look in the other Kimiko's eyes. She grabs Jacks lapels and jerks him up and down. "You're not!"

"Aiya! Get off me, you crazy girl! Did you get all the nuttiness when you two split? You're the psychotic twin, aren't you? Help! Jackinator, save me!"

The robot turns its immense head to them and raises a hand, palm outwards. A small hole opens in the centre and the unmistakable head of a missile pokes through.

"Crap!" Raimundo yells, and flings himself off the wall. He cannons into the hand, knocking it askew, and the missile flies off in a different direction than the one intended.

The water tower explodes, gushing its contents everywhere.

"Kimiko Two, move!" Rai uses the nickname he invented for her while he scrabbles for purchase on the smooth metal. The Jackinator swats at him, leaving bayonet grooves in its own arm and making him curse like a sailor as he skids and dodges and tries to sever one of its limbs. "Move!"

Yet the other Kimiko refuses to surrender her hold on Jack, and continues to scream in his face. "You're not evil! You saved my life more than once. You died for us! You're good, and you should be fighting with us, not against us! Pease, Jack. Please!"

"Crazy chica!" Jack tries to get away from her, but to no avail.

Finally Kimiko snaps herself from her reverie and sprints over to the pair. She yanks her double up by the shoulders, hissing, "Are you nuts? If you won't let go, at least threaten him so he releases Mister Won and Mister Ton." To emphasise, she summons a ball of small flames to surround her fist and brandishes it at Jack.

He squeals. "Don't hurt me!"

"Let's see which is faster, Jack: me or your Jackinator's missiles."

"Don't hurt me! Please, please don't hurt me!" Jack covers his head and quivers.

Kimiko can't help curling her lip. _This_ is the same boy who fought so bravely in the alternate world? This is the boy who lost the feeling in one hand when the Shade rammed the broken Monkey Staff through his shoulder, and _still_ refused to leave the temple? "There's a simple solution, Jack. Let them go and call off your robot."

"Okay, okay, I'll let them go."

The two Clays receive Mister Won and Mister Ton as their restraints whip back and they fall to earth. Each cradles one old man in a distorted nurturing parent pose, and under Rai's orders they hastily retreat to deposit them safely away from the battlefield.

"And the Jackinator," Kimiko says.

"Fine. But you have to let me up first."

She wavers, but her double acquiesces without comment, shoving Kimiko backwards with anger in her eyes. She looks pale, and her hair is scuffed wildly. Dark rings encircle her eyes. If she didn't know better Kimiko would say the other girl looks ill, but there's no time to ponder it as Jack leaps backwards and points at them.

"Ha ha! Jackbots, attack!"

The last flurry of jackbots swarm over the two girls. Jack dashes for the Vault as they fend them off.

Omi jumps at Jack, summoning the spilled water to hover above him in a swirling vortex. Jack skids to a halt and yells, "Jackinator! Another hostage!"

"Aw, crap." Raimundo drops to the floor, but the Jackinator grabs him before he can land and slams him against the wall again. This time cracks spider-web out from point of impact, and Raimundo groans as he's pinned by the same massive hand that just shot down the water tower. It's clear that his wits are scattered with pain, just as it's clear that, should another missile be fired, it will first go through his belly before obliterating the Vault, collapsing the walls and burying all the Shen Gong Wu under a few tonnes of stone.

It's a stalemate. Raimundo has clearly blacked out, head flopped forward between two of the Jackinator's fingers. Omi's vortex churns above Jack's head, while the two Kimikos stand in a ring of growing destruction and sparking jackbot carcasses.

Jack smirks at Omi and clicks his fingers. "Checkmate."

Omi frowns at him, clearly unsure what to do next. If he finishes his attack Raimundo will be hurt – killed even. Yet if he does nothing Spicer will escape and take their Shen Gong Wu with him. Omi has always been Jack's staunchest defender, but Kimiko can see that even he is lost as to how he should react to this new development.

As far as evildoers go, Jack has always been the underachiever of the bunch. He has lofty ideas and a real gift for inventive plans, but his execution stinks. Plus he's always had barriers he doesn't cross, which set him apart from the average villain. Where Chase Young would try to kill them simply for looking at him wrong, Jack always leaves their skirmishes with … not dignity, but with a kind of warped morality. He can and will pull dirty tricks, double-cross and yank the rug out from under you, but only to steal the power he wants. Very rarely does he labour under complete maliciousness. His aim has always been to defeat the Xiaolin Warriors, perhaps make them his indentured servants, not to murder them. Jack Spicer does not kill.

Or at least, he didn't kill until after experiencing the world where his evil half was trapped in the Yin Yang World and his good side left to run amok. Perhaps this is the after-effect of that; a reaffirmation of his evil by taking it to the next level.

Kimiko senses the mounting frenzy of her double's movements, and hears her muttering softly, "No, no, no, no, no, no -" The words seem weighted with things unsaid, and she's glaring so ferociously Kimiko half expects the oncoming jackbots to liquefy. Jack's presence, plus the obtrusive differences between him and the Jack she knew have created in her a kind of hysterical jitteriness that reminds Kimiko of people who bounce their heads off brick walls to relieve tension. Now Raimundo is also in danger, and it's common knowledge how protective she is of _him_. Kimiko can feel the dilemma building rapidly in her doppelganger, like a tailback on a busy road at rush hour.

Not that she's exactly a ball of calm herself. Alarm flares inside her, as does the compulsion to pulverise the Jackinator and rescue Raimundo. She refuses to read any more into it than concern for a teammate, but the sight of him, loose-limbed and helpless, galvanises her to fight even harder.

Omi looks around for guidance, and spies the two Clays returning across the courtyard, a flock of other temple monks peering through windows in their wake. He opens his mouth to call to them, but what he's about to say is lost as the Jackinator suddenly whirrs into action.

"What the -" Jack stares up at it in bewilderment. "Hey, I didn't order you move. I'm gonna use Raimundo as a bargaining chip for the Wu. Stay put!"

But the Jackinator doesn't stay put. It looks directly at its creator, and from inside the unmoving mouth come the words, "No more orders from you, small fry. I'm in charge now."

"Aw, man. Can't I for once build a version of myself that _doesn't_ double-cross me?"

Several things happen at once. The Jackinator removes its hand from the wall, and in so doing releases Raimundo, who plummets like a stone. Omi throws out his whirlpool, flattening it to catch his friend. Simultaneously the two Clays bound forward in a twin kick that looks so polished it shines. They connect with the Jackinator's kneecaps, driving them backwards with the concerted power of a boulder rolling down a mountainside.

Flipping end over end, the other Kimiko makes every part of her body a weapon. She tucks and rolls beneath the sweeping attack of the jackbots, then kicks up out of the roll, sending them flying. One crashes into another, and then another, like bowling pins. Her path cleared, she hares towards the falling robot.

For a moment time freezes. Later, Kimiko remembers what comes next only as a series of sound bites and snapshot images: The crunch and creak of metal as the Jackinator topples forward; Omi cresting a wave that carries himself, Jack and the unconscious Raimundo out of its path; the crackle of the giant robot's eye lasers; Jack's terrified scream as the red beams and bazookas blast right at him; her double's frantic yell; and finally the sudden eruption of heat so intense even _she's_ shocked by it.

Then the world snaps back into focus. Kimiko smashes the last jackbot and looks over to where the remains of the Jackinator bubble like spilled witch's brew. The cobblestones are blackened in a wide circle; as are the walls, save for a large Jackinator-shaped clear patch against the side of the tower. Omi, Raimundo, Jack and the Clays are surrounded by steam where Omi's water shield met the blast.

Everyone is staring at the epicentre. The other Kimiko wobbles slightly. She's still surrounded by a halo of tiny flames, which backlight her like some soft-focus romantic movie heroine. She has eyes only for Jack, who gawks back at her like she's just grown a second head.

"You … just saved my life," he boggles, as though none of them have ever done it before. Granted, nobody ever did it by calling down a firestorm on a giant homicidal root, but still, the implication smarts.

"You're … not … evil," she pants. "I know you're not. You can't be. That can't be different." She gazes at him, and nobody able to see her eyes can mistake the pleading there. "You were my friend…" Slowly she wavers back and forth, and then crumples like a marionette with all its strings cut.

"_Kimiko!_" the other Clay roars. Kimiko has never heard her Clay sound like that. She's never heard _anybody_ sound quite like that. His voice is full of such anguish it corrodes the inside of her own stomach. She abruptly feels quite sick and runs towards them.

Yet that isn't the end of it. Kimiko reaches the huddled group just as they gently turn the other girl over, and a gasp catches in her throat. The warm, happy Oaty Oatmeal finishes fading away, leaving only acidic dread.

Her doppelganger's face is ashen, and looks a little strange; out of focus, almost, as though being filmed through a smeared lens.

And lower down, where her stomach should be, is a ragged-edged hole through which they can see the underlying courtyard.

* * *


	10. Tragedy

* * *

**10. Tragedy**

* * *

There should be a word for that time between sleeping and waking where all the world is just so much pink candyfloss and all your cares seem ridiculous and far away.

The voice she can hear is Clay's, but it has a tone in it she's never heard before; a sort of half curt, half anxious urgency. Slowly Kimiko cracks open her eyes to see him, and she realises in the same heartbeat that she's lying in a real bed and the pressure on her hand is him crushing it between both of his.

"Clay?" Her words slur a little. Her head is throbbing. What the hell happened?

She can remember the fight with the Jackinator, and getting so angry and desperate to protect Jack and the others she generated a firestorm that drained every scrap of her strength. After that … nothing.

Nothing hurts now, but she does feel kind of funny – tingly, like she's full of pins and needles. That either means she's been unconscious for a very long time, or else there are healing Shen Gong Wu in this world she never knew about –

"Kimiko?"

All at once the tingly feeling leaves. Pain blossoms from every nerve ending, and there's a heavy sensation in her gut that snaps her upright to call for a sick bucket.

After she's done she wipes at her mouth and gratefully accepts the glass of water Master Fung pushes into her hand.

"Do you feel better?" he asks.

"Sure, if better means a pounding head and a severe need for a toothbrush. Yak." She looks at him. Isn't he meant to be off in the mountains? "What happened? Where's Jack?"

"Jack Spicer returned to his home."

"Oh." She can't keep the disappointment from her voice. "I thought –"

"We know what you done thought," Clay says shortly. Kimiko looks at him, puzzled. "But we don't know what you was _thinkin'. _Doggone it, Kimiko, what kind of harebrained stunt did you think you was pullin' back there? You nearly barbequed everyone an' practically killed yourself usin' that much energy all at once. We hadda use that durn Treasure of the Blinded Swordsman thing to zap your levels back into the safety zone."

"I didn't -"

"You stopped breathin'!" He's not wearing his hat and has pushed his hair from his eyes, so she finds herself meeting his distraught, furious gaze. It outs her in mind of bauxite crystals.

It also makes her uncomfortable, not because of his intensity, but because she's suddenly suffused with guilt. She never even thought of the other Dragons. She was so caught up in trying to reconcile this Jack with theirs she went a little mad, and then … just let go. Hours of meditation and training to keep her elemental powers under control, and then in one impetuous instant she just unclenched the fist of self-control and went wild. She can't quite believe she did it. She could've levelled the entire temple. She could've killed –

"Your heart stopped beatin'!" Clay still hasn't let go of her hand.

That shocks her. "It … did?"

Master Fung raises his palms. "While I understand your anger, Clay, I must insist you restrain yourself for the time being. There are other things to discuss; but first, Kimiko, you need to be thoroughly examined."

Kimiko nods, but a thought strikes her. "Mister Won and Mister Ton! How are they?"

"We're perfectly fine, child." Mister Won appears as if from nowhere bearing a tray of small blue vials. He looks sprightly and none the worse for wear after his spell as the Jackinator's hostage. "Though a little embarrassed at being taken unawares -"

"By those confounded jackbot contraptions." Mister Ton pops up from behind a table. "Heathenish creatures."

"And so ugly, too."

"But yes, we're absolutely smashing, dear girl -"

"Thanks to the valiant efforts of yourself -"

"And the other young Dragons."

"They've been in and out of here non-stop since the fight, by the way."

"Yes, we had to -"

"Chase them out -"

"With a broom!"

"Quite touching, really."

"Yes, quite. But none more so than this young gentleman."

"Oh yes, he's shown -"

"Real devotion."

"Never left your side, m'dear."

"Not for a minute."

"Not for a _second_!"

"Not even when we needed to -"

"Dress _his_ wounds."

Their habit of finishing each other's sentences makes Kimiko's head whirl, but she gets the gist of what they're saying. "How long have I been in here?"

"Oh, about twenty hours, give or take."

"Almost a full day, really."

"And he never moved from that chair."

"Not once."

"Came in holding your hand and -"

"Refused to let go."

"Practically had to prise his fingers open -"

"So we could work on the pair of you."

"And you don't want to know about -"

"Bathroom arrangements."

Clay lowers his eyes. He's still angry, Kimiko can see, but he's also embarrassed. She curls her captured fingers around his, forcing him to look at her. "I'm sorry."

The anger in his eyes cools a little, but not completely. "I know."

Master Fung breaks in. "Once you're ready, Kimiko, if you and Clay would join us in my quarters. We have much to discuss."

"Am I in trouble?" She's been reckless. Any version of Master Fung, in this world or her own, would have something to say about that. She put herself, her teammates, and the temple monks in danger with that inferno – not to mention the temple and surrounding area. So much raw elemental power, unleashed without a conduit like a Shen Gong Wu to focus and control it … the consequences if something had gone wrong don't bear thinking about. She was just so blind with emotion that she didn't _think_ –

"No, Kimiko," Master Fung says softly, "you're not in trouble." He sounds strangely sad, but before she can question him he's gone, and Mister Won and Mister Ton are plying her with questions and vile-tasting medicines.

The two Infirmary monks whisk so gracefully about it's difficult to believe they were so close to disaster before. Each wears a velvet cloak – one red, one purple – though Kimiko has never been able to figure out why, nor how they manage to move about their daily responsibilities without knocking things over. They seem inordinately interested in her stomach, and keep asking her to show it to them. Yet her belly, while not as rounded as it should be, is uninjured.

Soon she and Clay are also on their way to Master Fung's quarters, each filled with half a dozen tonics and reeking of poultice ointment.

They barely look at each other. This worries her; Clay is not usually given to grudges.

At the end of the corridor she stops. "You're not telling me something."

He refuses to meet her eye.

"Clay!"

"You disappeared." It's barely a whisper, and it's not the response she expected.

"What?"

"You vanished. Not entirely, but part of you. When you used up all your energy, you just kinda … faded away, like a ghost or sumthin'. That was when you stopped breathin', an' you was so pale I thought … I thought I done lost you…" His eyes glisten with tears.

Kimiko honestly doesn't know how to react to this piece of information. She's searching for something to say when a figure rounds the corner.

"Oh, uh, hey," says Raimundo. His arm is in a sling, and there's a band-aid on his forehead. His posture is one of apprehension, and he leans imperceptibly away from them. He's even more discomfited than usual when alone with them. "Uh, are you going to Master Fung's? I was just headed that way myself."

Swallowing hard, Kimiko nods. "You can walk with us, if you like."

They make their way in awkward silence, and knock the door to find more of the same. Everyone else is already present; Masters Fung and Guan, Dojo and the other Dragons are sat on the floor in a circle and apparently waiting for them. The other Kimiko sits with her arm around Omi, and is the first one to meet her eyes as she walks in. There's something in the other girl's face that makes the back of Kimiko's neck prickle, and she joins the circle with a growing sense of foreboding.

A shiver runs down her spine. It's an actual physical sensation that begins in the crown of her head and shoots straight down to her toes. People do not just fade away, not even when they've acted rashly and emptied themselves of all their magickal energy. Something is very seriously wrong.

"Why did I disappear?" she demands bluntly, before anyone else can speak.

She expects Master Fung to answer, but the reply comes from Master Monk Guan. He doesn't open his eyes or unfold his arms, and enunciates like an elocution tutor with a particularly dense pupil. "Our investigations have led us to believe that your presence in this world was not accidental. You were sent here deliberately, and the evidence, along with my own knowledge, tells us it was Grand Master Dashi who did so. I believe that when your final battle with this Shade creature began, he was aware he could not defeat it, and so did not even try. Instead he channelled all his efforts into opening a portal between your world and ours."

"What does this have to do with -"

Guan raises a hand to stop her interruption. "The power needed for such a spell is immense. The fabric of space and time is complex and strong – not easily manipulated even by a Grand Master. Once, Dashi and I constructed a Shen Gong Wu, the Sands of Time, which broke through one of those barriers. It was our crowning achievement. Yet we were never able to harness the power to safely break between dimensions. We knew the magick existed, but it is volatile and our attempts to control it were … categorically unsuccessful. From what you have told us about the previous battle at your temple, it is unlikely Grand Master Dashi had enough energy left to cast such a spell, even if it were safe to do so. And yet, here you are among us. Thus I can only speculate – though with growing certainty – that he achieved this by using the last of his power coupled with the most durable magick he had: his own life force."

The implications of this hit Kimiko. She shakes her head. "You're wrong; we came here by accident -"

"I am not wrong. Though this may seem distasteful to you, given your feelings towards Dashi -" Master Monk Guan was Dashi's friend from the beginning, but he doesn't waver when talking about how much she hates him. "Nevertheless, it is true. He sacrificed himself so that you two might live, and ensured you went to a world where you did not have to worry about the enemy that took so much from you. Presumably your Jack Spicer was intended to accompany you here, but obviously that became impossible when he died."

Kimiko isn't easily shocked into silence. She normally deals with the terrible and the unexpected by getting angry with it, but now all colour drains from her face. Her hands feel cold and clammy. The inside of her head seems to have been replaced with gauze dipped in jam, which isn't conducting electrical impulses very efficiently across her nerve endings. She would feel as upset and disorientated if the Earth changed direction and the sun rose in the west instead of the east.

"It's not true."

Clay's voice is firm, but he's squeezing her hand so tight her knucklebones scrub together under her skin. "I think … maybe it is. It'd sure explain a few things -"

"No, it's _not_ true! Dashi is -"

"Evil?" Master Monk Guan finally opens his eyes and looks at her, and his stare is so unrelenting Kimiko wilts under it. "Is that what you truly believe?"

"You were his friend, you _have_ to defend him."

"We are not querying my loyalty to Dashi. We are talking about your feelings for him."

"I have no feelings for him!"

"Really?"

"Dashi is… Dashi is…" Kimiko wavers. "He made Omi…"

"Did he _make_ Omi do anything?"

She recalls how Omi ran forward, not pushed, not compelled, but acting under his own power. She scowls. It's another case of her supposed to be showing respect, but instead feeling only antipathy. How dare Guan make these kinds of judgements when he wasn't even there? If there's one thing she's learned since she came here, it's that their two worlds are different, and nothing can be taken for grated as truth in either of them. "He took Rai away! He pushed his soul right out of his body because he wanted another chance at life."

"If that is the case, then why didn't he do that to his successor Dragon of the Wind 1500 years ago?"

Kimiko can't answer that, so she snaps defensively, "He could've saved Rai from the Shade, but he didn't!" Why isn't anyone speaking up? She feels like a boxer in a ring, just she and guan circling each other while everyone else looks on.

"Could he? How many other people survived when the Shade took out their souls?"

Katnappé crumpled on the floor. Wuya's shriek as she was swallowed. The red-tinted swirl seeping from Jack's mouth and into the Shade's. Omi's tiny body, rising off the floor. Pandabubba slumped across his desk. Chase Young plummeting, empty of life, to smash against the rocks below his citadel. Raimundo running back to try and save their world's Master Monk Guan in the canyon…

Kimiko's cheeks are wet. Something ruptures inside her. "Nobody." A minuscule pinprick of light lances through her prejudice. "Nobody ever survived." She shakes her head again, too wedded to her feelings to let them go. "Dashi … he …"

"He what?" Master Monk Guan persists. He's being so brutal, so _cruel_, but a tiny voice Kimiko thought she silenced a long time ago murmurs that she needs to be pushed, because she'd never admit to any of this on her own. "What did he do?"

A long moment passes. Kimiko bites her lower lip so hard she tastes blood.

"He saved our lives," Clay says, puckering the quiet like a zipper.

And suddenly the dam breaks. The scales fall from her eyes, and she sees clearly for the first time since she can't remember when. Kimiko leans forward, bracing her hands on the floor. She releases Clay's hand to do so, and wipes furiously at her face, smearing the tears that refuse to stop falling.

Dashi wasn't responsible for Rai's death. He didn't drive Omi into the Shade's waiting jaws, or abandon Jack to it. He didn't let Master Fung die, or kick Dojo out of their encampment at night. It's possible – _more_ than possible – she wanted to believe he was to blame, and to not forgive him for it, because she wanted to keep punishing herself for not being able to do more. It was an insidious self-defence mechanism against the enormity of her grief. Focussing on the injustice means she didn't have to grieve properly, nor accept that events were truly, completely irreversible. She didn't have to accept the guilt that she found happiness in Clay's arms at the expense of other's lives – the lives of those she loves like family.

Her Raimundo died. Her Omi was lost in battle. Her Jack should have lived to come with them to this world. The Shade ended all their lives too soon –

- and Dashi was not responsible for any of it.

Neither is she.

A memory has lived in her head since the day she left her world. It has been ringed in barbed wire and guarded by asbestos pits, and she has shut it away because she doesn't want to remember it's there. Yet now it lunges through its restraints and barrels to the forefront of her mind: Dashi in Rai's body the last time she saw him, gesturing frantically, weaving silvery-green patterns in the air and muttering, "No, I'm not ready! It's too soon; I'm not ready for it yet!" His frenetic cursing in ancient Chinese as Jack died. Then as she and Clay fell through the portal she looked right into Dashi-Rai's face. She saw the blood seeping from his ears and nose and eyes, and saw him mouth the words, "Make it count!" before rushing darkness whipped them away.

Someone is hugging her. It's her Clay, holding her tight and soothing her as emotions pour out of her like dirty water. She wants to kiss him and hit him at the same time.

Then she doubles over, gripped by a sudden cramp in her middle, or in her chest, or somewhere she can't locate. All of her is at once totally occupied by a spasm of pain that seems to pull her apart, arms off in different directions, legs gone swimming away, head only vaguely attached. The entire world goes grey and hazy. She gasps, opens her mouth to scream, but is unable to make a sound. The grey turns to black and the tingly sensation from before returns to engulf her entire body …

"_Kimiko!_"

She tumbles back into her own head to find Clay kissing her; not just a peck but a full-scale belter of a kiss, hands and arms all over the place. He's crying. She can feel it running into the corners of their mouths.

She pats him on the shoulder and he releases her. Her entire body feels peculiar, but she can at least speak again. "What the hell just happened?"

"That would be the, ah, other part of what we wished to discuss." She's never heard Master Fung sound so prim and proper.

All at once she wants to laugh. People can start laughing for all sorts of reasons, but sometimes they laugh because, against all expectations, they're still alive and have a mouth left to laugh with. She's been through so much already, less than half of which she actually _understands_, that she feel positively washed out. And yet here's more for her to deal with. Finddle-dee-dee, ain't life grand?

"Grand Master Dashi made a huge sacrifice in sending you here, but as Master Monk Guan said, the magick required was not exactly … stable."

"Not stable?" Cold dread floods Kimiko. "What's that mean?"

"It means the safeguards Dashi placed on you by using his life-force are weakening. Your presence in our dimension, while not detrimental to the fabric of the Space-Time Continuum, is nonetheless being rejected."

"What?"

"It's like a body rejecting a donor organ," Dojo puts in obligingly-but-not-really.

Kimiko's heart lurches so hard she thinks it must've swapped sides. "But what does that _mean_?" She finds herself looking at Master Monk Guan, even though he's the one least likely to soften the blow.

He doesn't disappoint. "You have no place reserved for you in this dimension, and reality is trying to heal over the gashes created by your sudden entrance. You cannot remain, and yet you cannot return to your own world. To be brief, you are both ceasing to exist. Just now you, Kimiko, experienced an attack in which you were momentarily erased from reality. Only the swift actions of your companion drew you back into our world. These attacks will grow stronger and more frequent until …" He leaves the sentence hanging. Then, surprisingly, he adds, "I am sorry."

"There's nothing you can do?" Her words are angry and filled with pain, as though they've been extracted under torture.

Both men and Dojo shake their heads.

"But we can keep trying," Dojo declares. "There's always hope. We won't give up."

Kimiko feels like she's been stabbed. Her heart aches.

It's not fair. It's not fair. IT'S NOT FAIR!

She leaps to her feet, and before she realises what she's doing she's banging the door shut behind her. Someone calls her name, several someone in fact, but she just keeps on running.

She doesn't know where she's going, nor does she care; she just needs to get away from that familiar, comforting room, now despoiled by what she learned in it. No sooner have they escaped the Shade, found a world where they can be happy; no sooner has she endured the revelation of Dashi and her own feelings, and started on the road to forgiving herself, then everything is cruelly snatched away again. Apparently she's not meant to be happy. Apparently her destiny is just to suffer and die – or not even die. Just cease to exist. Poof – and no more Kimiko.

Someone's following her. She can hear their footsteps. She reacts on sheer instinct, bounding to the wall and using her own momentum to run up it a few steps. Pushing off, she nails her pursuer with a flying kick to the head, but grunts when she's intercepted and repelled. Her legs catch her with a shock-absorber landing and she bounces back to her feet, fists raised.

There's a brief silence, and then she laughs, but not in a 'funny ha ha' kind of way'. It's more of a 'Damien from Omen III wins again' kind of laugh that gurgles up from deep inside her.

The other Kimiko reaches out a hand, but she doesn't take it. She just stands there, letting her fists drop to her sides, and laughs until she's weeping on the floor and doesn't give a damn what happens to her anymore.

* * *


	11. Rejection

* * *

**11. Rejection**

* * *

Kimiko wishes Master Fung, Master Monk Guan and Dojo had shared their discovery before the doubles arrived. It may have made the other Clay and Kimiko feel left out of the loop, but at least then she, Omi, Raimundo and Clay wouldn't have had to witness the horrible play of emotions across their faces. Neither would they have sat so dumbstruck while the other Kimiko leapt up and fled, and the other Clay just sat there swallowing convulsively.

_Someone should follow her,_ Kimiko thinks. _Who knows what she might do now. _It's a little picture of the whole muddle.

Yet the other Clay is in no position to go chasing anyone. He makes as if to rise, but she can see he's acting on instinct. It strikes her that he isn't here just as the other Kimiko's second in command. Ever since they arrived she's attributed that role to him because whenever the other girl stumbles he's there, right there at her side, shoring her up. It's easy to forget that he's a person too. It's also easy to forget that he can think of things other than his feelings for _his_ Kimiko, but that's obviously exactly what he's thinking right now.

Raimundo also gets up, but Kimiko tells him to sit back down. "You're injured and she's half-crazy. Not a good mix."

"Be careful," he says quietly, and with far less argument and far more apprehension than she would've suspected of him.

It's this she's thinking of when she catches up with her doppelganger and fends off her attack. Those two softly spoken words resonate incongruously, bouncing of the sides of her skulls as she listens to the awful laughter echoing around them, kneels and draws the other Kimiko into her arms.

Be careful.

Be careful.

"Be careful," she whispers, even though it's a dumb thing to say.

They both shudder with the force of her doppelganger's sobs. Kimiko holds her tight, realising after a few minutes that this is the most physical contact they've had that isn't fighting. She's so _bony._ Even now, after weeks of temple food, her shoulder blades stick out like Cadillac fins. Kimiko can feel them under her hands and they feel horrible, but she doesn't pull away.

Instead they just sit there for a long time, until the other Kimiko's sobs subside and she becomes strangely still.

Kimiko is wondering what to do next when she becomes aware of Master Fung standing behind her. She doesn't know how long he's been there, but allows him to gather the other Kimiko into his arms and carry her back to the Infirmary. The fight with the Jackinator was hours ago, but she's never felt more drained.

Raimundo and Omi are also there, and help her to her own feet. Together they return to their personal areas and just sit with her, saying nothing because there's really nothing to say.

Presumably Clay is with his double. When asked, both Omi and Rai reply in the affirmative. The other Clay didn't go to pieces as spectacularly as the other Kimiko, but he was shell-shocked enough that they didn't want to leave him alone when he insisted they follow the girls. Master Monk Guan, Dojo and Clay stayed with him – though nobody's sure how beneficial Master Monk Guan's company would be.

"He was so _cold_," Kimiko says, shaking her head. "When he told them … did you see how cold he was? Was he ever that cold before?"

"Probably." Raimundo shrugged. "He's not exactly famous for being a bundle of hyuks. All work and no play makes you Master Monk Guan, now drop and give me twenty, worms."

"Even so … that was harsh." Kimiko licked her lips. "So what do we do now?"

"Obviously we must strive to discover a way to keep your double and Clay's in our world," Omi says as if it's the most logical thing in the world.

"Right. Fine. How?"

"Um…" He looks a little less sure of himself. "I … do not know. But we must strive anyway."

"So we get with the striving. Anybody know anything about inter-dimensional travel magicks?" Raimundo looks around.

Nothing.

"Though not. Raise your hand if you have no clue where to go from here."

Kimiko doesn't hesitate. Omi follows a few seconds later, and seeing their raised hands, Raimundo adds his own.

"Is it wise for a Shoku Warrior to admit such defeat?" Omi wonders.

"I'm not admitting defeat, dude, I'm just saying I'm open to ideas for our next move."

"Oh." Omi frowns in thought. "We could consult the scrolls in the Archive Room. They are very many, and Master Monk Guan and Master Fung may have overlooked something."

"Okay, good idea. Can you read ancient Chinese? 'Cause from what Master Monk Guan was saying, I think anything useful will be in the Do Not Take Into Direct Sunlight section."

"I am versed in early forms of Mandarin and Cantonese, and several local dialects thought extinct by the rest of the world." Even now Omi's voice holds a note of triumph at his own skills compared to theirs, but Kimiko can't hold it against him. Instead, his gentle arrogance is a comfort.

"Okay, so you're on research duty. Kimiko, you're tech queen; how about something digital?"

She knows of several people she can email who won't bat an eyelid at that sort of request, and as far as she knows she's the only Xiaolin in her webring. Magick isn't limited to what they use at the temple. Someone somewhere _must_ know something they can use. "I can get online; get some feedback from alternative practitioners."

Omi looks puzzled.

"Y'know, other types of magick – Wicca, Enochian, Alchemy, Neo-Shamanism, stuff like that. If we can't find the answer in Xiaolin, we'll go elsewhere."

A slightly aggrieved expression flits across his face at this perceived challenge, but he nods. Omi may be proud but he's not stupid.

"And what'll you be doing, Rai?" Kimiko asks.

Rai runs a hand through his hair, which accidentally tears off his band-aid. The cut underneath is clean but angry red. "I'll …"

"Perhaps Jack Spicer could help us. His technology -"

"Omi, dude, don't even go there. The guy went up to the next level today. He tried to kill. You don't come back from that."

"Actually," Kimiko puts in, not sure why but speaking anyway, "he didn't kill anyone. He just … set things up that way, but it didn't actually _happen_."

"I can't believe you're defending him."

"I'm not! Well yes, I am, but only because …" She stops, unable to finish her own sentence.

Raimundo looks straight at her. "Because what? I'm really interested to hear this one. He attacked us with a giant robot, blew up the water tower, threatened the lives of two defenceless bystanders – and me – and then ran off squealing like the giant coward he is after Kimiko Two saved his sorry life from his own malfunction. How can you justify that?"

"I can't. I just thought … like Omi said, we might need him."

"We won't."

"But we might -"

"We. Won't."

It's not worth fighting about. They have options right now, so Jack's involvement isn't crucial. Her webring has techno-whizzes in it – _non-evil_ techno-whizzes – who might be able to help out with the whole breaking-through-the-walls-of-dimensions thing.

Except …

Kimiko frowns. "Question: are we trying to make the other Kimiko and Clay go home, or find a way for them to stay in our world without going all fadey? Kimiko Two's been really clear about not wanting to go home."

"Yeah, but things have changed," Raimundo points out.

"Should we not ask herself about this?" enquires Omi. "And Clay Two also?"

Yet Kimiko is emphatic about her double's desire to remain in their world. She gets quite shrill about it, incurring a look between the two boys that can only be described as 'bamboozled'. By sheer force of her will, they cease even talking about sending the doppelgangers home and agree to concentrate on stabilising any and all magicks necessary for them to stay in this dimension.

This decided, they break apart and go their separate ways, thankful for something positive to do. Omi and Raimundo both retreat to the Archives, while Kimiko finds a quiet corner and taps at her PDA, sending out feelers. Several reap promises to work on it, a few more get positive feedback, and she's confident that when those who haven't answered get to their computers they'll also agree to help out.

Everyone is curious as to _why_ she needs the information, and she figures at this point there's more to lose by not telling than keeping silent. She can practically hear the low whistles that accompany the admission that she has an alternate version of herself, who is not only living under the same roof, but also slowly and painfully ceasing to exist in this reality. A couple ask if they can come and see her to run some tests. Kimiko says she'll ask.

Hours later Raimundo reappears. "A week."

"Excuse me?"

"Two weeks tops."

"What are you babbling about?"

"That's how long Master Fung reckons the other Clay and Kimiko have before they go poof completely. And it may be a case of that's when the _last_ bits of them disappear. They could go anytime before that if things go south."

She's shocked. Then she wonders why she's shocked. She just never even thought about how small the time window might be. "Oh."

"That's one word for it."

She swallows. Her throat is scratchy. "How's the research going?"

"Do you know how many scrolls refer to hopping between dimensions? And of those, do you know how many are totally useless?"

She sighs and rubs her eyes. They sting from staring at her PDA for so long. "I'm hungry. I haven't eaten since … yeesh, since before the Jack attack. You want something to eat?"

"I could murder a cheeseburger right now. Or a giant strawberry milkshake."

"Okonomiyaki." She draws her knees up to her chest, and then stretches them out with toes pointed to ease her cramped muscles, leaning back on her splayed palms for balance. "Especially modanyaki."

"What the hell?"

"You remember when we visited Tokyo that time, and I took all you guys to that street-side eatery for those batter pancake things?"

That was fun. She remembers fondly how they all crammed under the canvas stretched across the stall front, perched on stools to slurp messily at the corndog-shaped snacks. She remembers being squashed elbow to elbow with Rai, fighting with him while simultaneously explaining to Omi how she used to sneak out of the Academy to gorge on Okonomiyaki at similar stalls.

She also remembers how she _didn't_ mention that she chose to sneak off to street-stalls instead of upmarket restaurants because her mother would never deign to eat at them. She remembers how Clay and Dojo didn't surface from stuffing their faces until it was time to leave, and Dojo had such bad indigestion they had to charter a flight home.

Her smile fades. Her mother, Papa, the visit to Tokyo she and her doppelganger planned so carefully; it was all going to come to nothing now …

"Those were good." Rai's voice breaks into her thoughts. "What did you call them again?"

"Uh, Okonomiyaki."

"We should go for those again sometime."

"Yeah."

"When things are less crazy."

"Heck yeah."

She's suddenly, stupidly aware of their nearness. Rai has his hand out to help her to her feet, and even though he's done it a million times before, this time she eschews his help and gets up by herself. She brushes dust from her tunic and checks her hair, today its natural black but twisted into four small buns scattered across the back of her head. Each trails a ribbon that makes her feel like a cut-price Chun-Li.

Painting on a bright smile she chirps, "We can take the other Clay and Kimiko. If she's anything like me then she loves Okonomiyaki, and you know any incarnation of Clay will wolf down whatever's set in front of him."

Rai nods, slowly and deliberately. "Yeah. We'll all go together. And we'll make Dojo stay giant sized and frighten everyone in Tokyo."

"Are you kidding? The place that's seen more radioactive dinosaurs than you've had hot dinners?"

"You do realise those were all movies, right?"

"Idiot."

They head for the kitchen. On the way they pass within spitting distance of the Infirmary, and Kimiko can't resist popping her head around the door to check on her doppelganger.

The other girl appears to be sleeping. Her hair is spread across the pillow like filigree, and her face is to the wall. Yet just as Kimiko steps away she turns over, fixing her with an eye that burns fiercer than the firestorm she summoned.

For a second Kimiko is caught by that eye. Then she swallows and goes fully into the room.

Rai lingers in the corridor, not wanting to face her double, but at Kimiko's imploring look he follows her in.

This doesn't go unnoticed by her doppelganger, who says nothing and stares blankly at the two of them. There's no trace of her earlier tears. Without greeting them she sits up, swings her feet out of bed and laces up her sandals. "I'm not an invalid. I know you guys don't believe master Monk Guan and have been working to keep me and Clay here. I want to help."

"You should rest -"

"I'm not sick," she snaps, "but I am sick of lying around here not doing anything. Mister Won and Mister Ton are out picking flowers for potions or dancing skyclad or something. They said to stay in bed. Now help me find a hairbrush so I can get out of here."

Still wary of the other girl's condition the last time she saw her, Kimiko produces her own fold-out hairbrush and mirror. The other Kimiko talks briskly and moves with purpose; acting nothing like the broken heap she was only a short while ago. Kimiko fills her in about their various research agendas as they scout for Mister Won and Mister Ton, slip out and head for the kitchen.

"Non-Xiaolin magick. Great idea. Let Master Monk Guan put that in his pipe and smoke it."

Rai is noticeably quiet. He trails a little behind the two girls until the other Kimiko rounds on him and taps her foot in a way that's so _Kimiko_ it's scary.

"Are you gonna walk on eggshells around me until I … are you gonna do this forever?"

He glances around, as if looking for the person she's talking to. "Huh?"

"Because it's really not you. You're supposed to be obnoxious and think you're smarter than you are, and have little flashes of sensitivity right at the moments when I think you're an incurable jerk-off. And while I've come to know painfully well that I can't freeze either your world or mine in a happier time forever, I'm really starting to hate this pussy-footing version who can't even look at me because what's happening to me scares him. Twenty-four hours ago all I had to worry about was fitting in here and getting airsick on the plane to Tokyo. Now I've discovered the guy I hated most actually saved my life at the expense of his own, I'm going to fade slowly and excruciatingly out of reality unless I resurrect magicks that might well wreck the universe if used – magicks even the greatest ever Xiaolin master couldn't use – and I have a headache an aspirin the size of China won't budge. So ask yourself, Rai; do you really want to add to that and watch the fireworks?"

Raimundo blinks. "Uh…"

Kimiko draws close to him and hisses, "Just shake your head and agree to whatever she says."

He furiously complies. "Whatever you say."

The doppelganger glares at him hard enough to melt iron filings. "Good boy. Now heel."

"Huh?"

"So you had your sense of humour surgically removed, too?" She rolls her eyes. "Look, I know I already scared the bejeezus out of everyone before this. I know you and I didn't exactly hit it off, and I know I can be a little less than stable." She snorts at her own words. "But seriously, where's the Xiaolin spirit I know and love? The part of us that says 'screw that' when presented with impossible odds? I know this world isn't so different from mine where _that's_ concerned – I heard about when Omi ruined the future and changed the present so Chase Young was good and evil ruled the world, and I heard how you all worked to fix it even though, hello, entire _universe_ messed up beyond all recognition.

"This is big. I won't lie and say I'm fine, because underneath this façade of cool, composed and coherent babbling -" Her left eye twitches. "- is a whole heap of stuff just simmering away. But whatever crisis I'm faced with, one thing I _am not_ gonna do is just look at the wall and cry. Neither am I gonna sit on my hiney waiting for it to happen. If you've got all these plans to help me then I'm really grateful, but I'd be even more grateful if you'd just. Act. Normal." She's breathing hard as she finishes.

Kimiko resists the urge to take a step backwards and check her eyebrows haven't been singed off. The vehemence is scorching.

"Uh … I'm sorry?" Raimundo tries.

"Don't be sorry. Be Raimundo. Be who you are so if things can't be fixed…" She takes a breath, grits her teeth and continues. "So if things can't be fixed then at least Clay and I can enjoy what time we've got left."

The air seems to solidify around them, until Kimiko feels like she's breathing chunks of tension.

"I can't be your Raimundo," Rai says at last.

"I know. Believe me … I know. That's why I'm not asking you to be him – or Dashi."

Rai flinches. "Thank goodness for that."

"Do you hate me?"

"What? No!"

"So do you think you can function around me and my psychosis?"

"I'm gonna do all I can to keep you here in our world, if that's what you mean."

The other Kimiko looks like she's about to cry again, but draws herself up to her full height. "Thank you."

"Truce?" He offers his hand.

She takes it without delay. "Truce."

It's surreal. It's unsettling. Kimiko knows her double is a fuse waiting for a lit match, just as she knows these two distress each other more than can ever been deemed healthy. They've been tension personified since that ill-fated Chocolate Mudslide, and they will never been 'all right' in the truest sense of the words.

And yet …

And yet watching them shake hands now … something clicks with the universe. She isn't sure why she's suddenly flooded with the Oaty Oatmeal glow, but she's too pleased at its return to probe.

* * *


	12. Guan

**

* * *

**

**12. Guan**

**

* * *

**

"It will do no good."

Master Monk Guan's voice scrapes across Kimiko's brain like a cheese grater. She has to forcibly unclench her fists before turning to look at him, and leaves the scroll on her bedroll because she can't trust herself not to accidentally drive her fingers through the fragile paper by gripping too hard. "Excuse me?"

"It is admirable, your quest to find answers, but you cannot change fate."

"Done it before."

"I am not trying to vex you, Kimiko." He crouches down, removing his psychological height from the equation. He doesn't clasp his hands but he does lower his eyes. It as much an admission of shame as she's likely to get.

And vex? Who even uses that word anymore?

Master Monk Guan gazes at the end of her futon. "I am simply trying to make you appreciate the reality of the situation -"

"Look, I've already been through this with Master Fung – _and_ Dojo. Nothing they said dissuaded me – or Clay, so stay away from him too. Nothing you can come up with will make us stop trying. We're Xiaolin. The handbook says we have an obligation not to give up."

That's not a smile. Not even close. "Ah. I had forgotten the handbook."

"Glad you're not my master, then." The venom in her voice is genuine.

"Are you transferring your former hatred of Dashi onto me because I forced you to recognise what he did for you?"

"Stop that."

"Stop what?"

"_That_. Getting all armchair psychiatrist. I don't _need_ to have someone to hate."

"So why are you being so hostile?"

"Oh, I don't know. Maybe because you waited until everyone left for dinner so you knew I'd be alone, so you could come in here and have the greatest emotional impact telling me it's hopeless and I should just lie down and die?" She had an attack of the invisibles that robbed her of her appetite, so she stayed behind to pore over some scrolls that aren't written in such ancient Mandarin she can't understand it. Clay was reluctant to leave her; he's just as vehement to work at finding a solution to their problem, but she told him to go eat in case he has an attack too. He needs to keep his strength up.

Master Monk Guan shakes his head. The light from her candle reflects off his bald pate. He's shinier than Master Fung. Perhaps he uses polish. "I don't think you should do nothing. Far from it."

"What? But you said -"

"It's what you _do_ do that concerns me."

"Huh?" She's nonplussed.

"Do something, but be careful what you do." He pulls out two scrolls and hands them over. The paper of the first is narrower than hers, but the roll thicker, many pages tightly wrapped and beribboned. There's no way it's as old as the other. The ribbon is purple and shiny and screams 'gift shop'. The other scroll is old and looks familiar, but then again all ancient scrolls start to look the same after a while.

She takes them gingerly. "What are these?"

"I do not wish for you and Clay to simply vanish without trace. That is, your Clay. The Clay who was not here, in this universe, before you arrived. Because he was with you. Arriving. While Clay, the Clay that I know and have trained was here. Not waiting, but ... uh…" For a second he looks as stumped as she feels. "Raimundo is correct. Demarcations in this situation are indeed difficult."

"We're doing fine." Big fat lie, right there. There's no such thing as 'doing fine' for them. There's perfect, or there's wrong.

Master Monk Guan meets her eyes and she looks away.

"I wish for you to stay as much as you do."

"So why are you being so defeatist? You're Master Monk Guan. You're good at the impossible odds thing. You've survived for thousands of years where you should've died - oh!" A hand flies to her mouth. That came out _so_ wrong and hurtful, and she actually _cares_ that she might've hurt his feelings.

In that instant she knows she doesn't hate him, not the way he probably thinks she does. She's just terrified of what'll happen if she _doesn't_ try beating the odds, and that's all he seems able to tell her to do. Still, telling a guy he should've snuffed it years ago is possibly not the best way to get him to make with the positive.

"You are correct. I have seen several ages of man – more than I perhaps should have. As such, it is not my place to say where and when others should live or die. But I do not say what I say because I am making that judgement. I used the Golden Tiger Claws to return to my own temple to consult my library. I have collected texts from many civilisations and cultures, and I have more references to interdimensional travel than the Dragon and Crane Temples put together. None of them have a viable answer that would not do more damage than they would solve."

She glares at him. "It's not hopeless. It's _not_."

He stands up. "Read the scrolls. Then make your decision."

"I already know our decision. No dumb scrolls are going to change that unless they contain a way I can fix this. Do they?"

He just looks at her.

"I didn't think so."

"Read the scrolls, then make your decision." He turns to leave, but pauses. "I am ... glad it was our world you two came to."

It seems as if he's about to say something more. She waits.

His feet make no sound as he pushes the curtain aside and leaves her alone, gripping the two rolls of paper.

* * *


	13. Hope

**A/N****:** Wow, talk about things I thought I'd never touch again. When I started this fic I hadn't even started my teacher training, and now I'm on my second job.

* * *

**13. Hope**

* * *

Kimiko balances the tray on one hand, trying not to spill food or drink everywhere as she pushes aside the curtain. The fact she's wearing stacked-sole heels doesn't help matters, though if pushed she can perform a pretty neat haymaker-bicycle-kick combo in platforms. She wouldn't want to do it while carrying a brimming glass of orange juice, however – at least, not if she wants to keep any in the actual glass.

She's not sure whether her doppelganger will be hungry yet, but it seemed cruel to eat and not save anything for her. Kimiko Two looked so drawn when they left her earlier that, even though she's been putting on weight, her wan cheeks reminded Kimiko of anorexics and hollow-eyed models toppling off the end of the catwalk after starving themselves. Kimiko gets the feeling her doppelganger's hunger is of a more intangible nature, but a body is still a body, and even a body that periodically vanishes needs fuel. To that end, she picked out all her own favourites to bring as a sort of peace offering, although the only thing she feels the need to make peace about is that they haven't yet found an answer to the crisis, and she doesn't want to think too much about that right now.

Three days. They've been looking relentlessly for three days and found nothing useful. Even her web-connections have failed her. Last night she went into the Shen Gong Wu Vault, down deep, almost to the bottom of the staircase. There she screamed loud enough to leave herself with tinnitus.

When she emerged she found Raimundo trying to sneak away.

"Uh, hi," he said when he realised he'd been caught. "Just, uh, taking some air."

"Indoors?"

"Sure. It's, uh, real fresh, the air in here. Fresher than outside." To illustrate, he filled his lungs so full that the belt of his gi strained, and then released it all in a great whoosh that sent spittle flying onto her cheeks. "I didn't mean to do that!"

"Ew, gross! You spat on me."

"I said I didn't mean it."

"That makes it okay?"

"Don't tell me you still believe in boy-germs."

"I believe in Rai-germs, which are icky enough." She wiped herself off with her sleeve and fixed him with a penetrating look. "So, was I entertaining?"

Rai looked sheepish – a typical expression for him on any given day, especially if he's been caught doing something he shouldn't. It's usually followed by him swaggering, trying to make out that it's the world at fault, not him. Not this time, though. "I didn't hear anything."

"Who said anything about hearing?"

"You're just trying to trip me up so you can kick me and say you're justified. Stop being such a … a _girl_."

Normally she would've given in and segued into their usually verbal sparring, but last night, her throat still raw and her whole body feeling like it was made of lead, she just waved him away and breezed past to leave. She was _tired_,and not just physically. She was mentally exhausted too, but the thought of what they're all trying to do had kept her going all day with barely a pause.

The worst, however, was – and still is – the sheer emotional exhaustion that they've all been going through. The most horrible part, Kimiko thinks, is that however bad the rest of them feel, the doppelgangers are feeling ten times worse, and yet they keep going anyway. Never say die, given 'em hell, spit in destiny's eye and give fate a wedgie – they're Xiaolin Dragons through and through, which is a little unsettling because Kimiko keeps watching a person who is, essentially, _her _being so brave, and yet still she finds it hard to believe that she could be that brave herself in the same situation. She's not sure whether to feel proud or humbled, and mixing the two just makes her head hurt.

Rai stopped her from leaving the Vault by sticking his arm out so that if she carried on she'd be caught in a clothes-line tackle. Her manner turned instantly aggravated. She still had enough embers left to flare up if a stupid gust of wind blew them the right way.

"What?"

"Teammates, right?"

"What?"

"We're teammates, aren't we?"

"Well _duh_."

"So how come you're trying to go all lone wolf?"

"Shut up, Rai."

"Seriously, Kimiko." Raimundo looked uncomfortable, but kept on talking anyway. He's good at talking when it's a better idea to shut up. Usually it's when he's saying something dumb, chauvinistic, inappropriate, or all of the above, and _especially _when he doesn't realise he's saying something wrong until he spots everyone else's expressions. Sometimes even that's not enough to make him stop, but last night he seemed like he actually _wanted_ to shut up but forced himself to keep talking anyway. That was weird enough to make her take notice. "Don't go quitting now."

"Rai, I have no idea what you're talking about," she said, even though she kind of did.

"Teammates look out for each other. They talk to each other and make sure the other members of their team don't go batshit or anything."

"Wow, is that a technical term?"

"You know what I mean!"

And she does, but still, it was weird hearing it from _him_. Sometimes she's still surprised that Rai made leader, and sometimes … really not.

"We rely on each other, and that means we have to trust each other. So … y'know, not that I have a stunning track record or anything, but you can trust me. I just … wanted you to know that." Rai strode away, hands deep in his pockets and shoulders hunched like he'd lost one of their arguments. He got as far as the pillars before her voice stopped him.

"I'm scared we can't do it."

He paused for a moment, facing away from her. Then he looked back with a grin and a thumbs-up. "Sure we can. Xiaolin Dragons, remember? Trouncing the impossible is what we're good at. If beating the odds was an Olympic sport, we'd take gold, silver _and _bronze."

"Great rhetoric, but … not so great so far."

"Great _what_?" he echoed, genuinely puzzled.

Kimiko sighed. She didn't even want to take up the opportunity of needling him, and it was an easy one. "It's been three days. The episodes are coming more often." That's what they've been calling them – episodes. Kimiko Two calls each one 'an attack of the invisibles', but 'episodes' makes it less forbidding. Or at least, that's what Dojo thought when he came up with the idea. In truth, nothing can make this whole thing seem less scary than it is. "I've never felt so helpless before. Their _lives _depend on us figuring this out, and even though we've been firing on all cylinders we still have bupkiss. What if … what if we can't do it, Rai? What if we're too late?"

Raimundo turned around then. He's leader of the team, her teammate, her friend, her antagonist in everything from what to have for dinner to how best to beat the bad guy and save the world. He disagrees with her just for the hell of it and, even though it drives her crazy, she actually likes that because it makes winning an argument against him feel like she's earned it. Clay and Omi are just as competitive – _nobody_ will ever be as competitive as Omi – but somehow it's just not the same. Clay's too amiable and Omi's too gullible, whereas Rai isn't just a thorn in her side, he's a giant-sized mutant claw from a radioactive giant lizard – impossible to ignore, completely ridiculous, and enjoyable to both defeat and watch work when he gets it _right_ in the field. Plus, ever since they almost lost him to the dark side, he kind of makes it hurt somewhere on the other side of her ribs that she doesn't like to think about, especially not now.

But right then, standing just outside the twilit Shen Gong Wu Vault, with nobody around but them, Kimiko didn't want him to be any of those things. She wanted him to be the guy who'd tell her it would all be fine, and say it in a way she'd believe.

"We just keep trying," he said eventually. "It's all we _can_ do."

She'd wanted him to lie to her. Just like not knowing when to shut up, Rai is also a brilliant liar. Unfortunately, not this time. Jerk.

She hunched, and he half-turned towards her. For a second she thought maybe he was going to come back and, like, apologise, or hug her or something, which was stupid because hugging comes to Rai like altruism does to cats – not often, and when it happens you're just waiting for the other shoe to drop so the universe will go back to normal. He didn't, though. Hug her, that is. Instead, his own shoulders hunched, his hands clenched and went even deeper into his pockets, and his face took on the frustrated expression that's been making potato-worthy furrows in his forehead for three days now.

Kimiko made an effort to straighten her back instead of hunching. "Thanks, Rai. You're … you're a pretty good leader."

"Whatever," he shrugged, uncomfortable in a way he rarely is.

"But if you tell anyone I said that, I'll deny it."

His mouth twitched. The lines on his forehead eased slightly. "Yeah, right. You think I'm great, really. You're probably president of my fan club or something, and that's why you're always picking on me, so nobody will realise."

"Dream on!"

"You protest too much."

So she'd run up, punched him on the shoulder, and then dashed across the courtyard with him in pursuit like they hadn't just been discussing a literal matter of life and death. It was only a few seconds' reprieve, but Kimiko felt better afterwards.

"Hey, why were you in the Vault, anyway?" she asked as they parted ways.

"Saw you go in."

"And you _followed _me?"

He cocked a half-hearted salute that would've gotten him tossed out of the armed forces. "Teammates, remember?"

She stared at him for a moment before remembering herself and rolling her eyes. "Teammates. But if you let power go to your head and start trying to make us all do secret Xiaolin Dragon handshakes, or introduction monologues like Team Rocket, or _theme songs_ -" She pulled a face. "- then I _will_ put peroxide in your shampoo."

Now Kimiko pushes open the curtain, tipping the tray as a picked plum plops out of its dish and tries to roll off the edge. "Hey," she says softy. "I thought you might be -" She stops. "-hungry?"

The other Kimiko is staring at an unfurled scroll, each end clasped in a tight fist. Her expression is shocked and her hands tremble. If she was pale before, now plain yoghurt has more colour than her face. Her head jerks up at Kimiko's words, and for a moment her eyes are so bleary that Kimiko worries she's about to have another episode, but then her doppelganger refocuses with a sharp intake of breath.

"Are you okay?"

She starts to nod, pauses, half shakes her head and then swallows hard. She looks back at the scroll. Kimiko moves closer to see what it is, but her doppelganger jerks it away and gets to her feet so fast that she staggers a little. She hasn't eaten anything since yesterday, Kimiko remembers, but she ignores the tray of food in Kimiko's hands and pushes past to get out.

"Hey, wait! What's wrong? What's the mat-?"

"I have to find Clay," she says, not in reply. Kimiko might as well not be there at all. "I have to find him. I have to … to find him."

"What?" Kimiko wavers, then sets the tray down on the floor for want of a better, speedier place, and sets off after her doppelganger. "Seriously, what's the matter?" She catches her arm. "Spill it! What's got you so hot under the collar?"

The other girl stops, elbows straight at her sides. At first Kimiko thinks maybe she's going to yell, but instead she turns a strange gaze on her and simply stares for a moment, as if committing Kimiko to memory – which is stupid, as she's only a hop, skip and a jump from being a proper twin with more pounds and fewer scars. Well, that and minus the haunted expression, but that'll go as soon as they figure out how to keep her and Clay Two in this world permanently. Despite the terrible odds and lack of success so far, after last night Kimiko refuses to believe that it's entirely hopeless. She's decided to be like Casey Junior – if she thinks they can, then they _can_. She wants this more than she's ever wanted anything before, and not just because she's a Xiaolin Dragon.

The truth is she _wants_ her doppelganger to stay. She never would have believed it when this whole thing started – or even afterwards, actually, in the first few days of prickliness and tales of horror. Now, however, Kimiko wants her to stay not just because the alternative is cruel and unfair, but because she knows deep down that without her double she would be … would be … oh hell, she can think it to herself without sounding like a weenie, surely? She'd be _lonely _without the other Kimiko. Not the kind of loneliness of social outcasts and bullied kids, or the kind that comes with having nobody else around, but … if it didn't sound so weird, she'd say loneliness of the soul. She'd feel like a part of herself is missing if all they've been through together ends only in tragedy.

"What is it?" she asks after a few minutes, trying to keep her tone soft.

The other Kimiko shakes her head, as if forcibly bringing herself back to her senses. "I need to speak to Clay," she says. "Where is he?"

"Still eating, I think. Did you find something?"

"Oh, I found something, all right."

Kimiko's hopes soar. "What did you find?"

"First I have to talk to Clay."

Kimiko hears the iron in the other girl's voice and recognises that she'll get an answer afterwards. It's the same tone she uses herself when she's promising to come back and explain a piece of pop culture to Omi after she's beaten the living snot out of Rai for some insult or other.

"All right, consider me rainchecked. But can I ask a question before you run off?"

"I guess."

"If you found something usable, how come you don't look happy?"

The other Kimiko's gaze turns blank. "It's about what it involves to make it happen. That's why I need to talk to Clay."

Kimiko's soaring hopes lose altitude and crash into the windshield of an oncoming truck. "That doesn't sound good." She wants to grab the words as soon as they leave her mouth. Whoa, talk about dumb things to say. After plenty of experience, she's fully aware that sometimes the price of getting something is far greater than the thing is worth.

Her doppelganger says nothing, just turns and dashes off in the direction of the kitchens. This time, Kimiko doesn't follow.

* * *


	14. Adapt

* * *

**14. Adapt**

* * *

"It's easier if you just read the scroll," Kimiko says breathlessly.

Clay stares at the chickenscratchings arranged across the parchment. "Uh, I can't."

"Shoot, I forgot. Here, let me read it to you."

As Xiaolin Dragons, they've been granted the power to understand any spoken language in their pursuit of the Shen Gong Wu and their eternal struggle against the Heylin. Unfortunately, this doesn't spill over into the written word. One of the many duties of the monks at each temple is to translate and copy out the most important scrolls into the languages of each new generation of Dragons. Unfortunately, there are so _many_ scrolls that the oldest and those considered least important are often left in their original Chinese, or whatever other language they're written in. Not all the documents in the Xiaolin archives started life in China.

Not that Kimiko can actually read ancient Chinese. Japanese and English, sure, but not Chinese.

After she has finished reading aloud to him, Clay looks back at her with nothing short of amazement. "Pardon my language, but … damn. I weren't never expectin' _that_. I feel as confused as a prairie dog in the Arctic."

They're hiding in the Shen Gong Wu vault, though they haven't descended the spiral staircase to where the Wu are kept. It's the one place in the whole temple where they can be sure of a little privacy. Kimiko knows that her bursting in on dinner and dragging Clay away by his arm will have made everyone curious, but being here is a signal to the others for them to keep away for the time being. There isn't much to be said for the rep she has acquired since getting here, but in this case it's useful. Nobody wants to be on the receiving end if she flies into a rage, which is usually what follows any odd behaviour.

"I wasn't either," she says. "But it does make a lot of sense."

"I get that, but still …" Clay scratches the back of his head. "_Damn_. So what do we do now?"

"I was kind of hoping you'd tell me."

"You want _me_ to decide? All on my lonesome?"

"Yes. No. I don't know."

"Glad we got that cleared up."

"I don't know what we should do, Clay. The others," Kimiko gestures vaguely at the doorway, "are all working their butts off to help us, and now _this_ … This changes everything."

"I might venture that it don't actually change a thing."

She nods. "There is that, if it's true."

"You think it ain't?"

She stares at the parchment, feels the heft and weight of it, and the roughness against her fingertips. "No. I'm pretty sure it's true. Master Monk Guan sure picked a hell of a time to hand this over."

"Master Monk Guan gave you this?"

"Is there an echo in here?" She unties the ribbon from the other scroll and pushes it into his hands, exchanging it for the ancient one. The ribbon is crumpled where she hastily tied up the younger scroll after reading it. "Here. You need to read this one as well."

He obviously notes the scroll's age. "But I can't read -"

"Trust me, this one you _can_."

"Huh?"

"Just look at it, okay?"

He does so. It takes longer than the first. Kimiko waits impatiently, resisting the urge to start tapping her foot and drumming her fingers against her arm only through sheer force of will. When Clay finally looks up, she sees uncertainty and sadness in his eyes.

"Well now," is all he says.

"Yeah," she replies. "It clears up a few things, doesn't it?"

"It does, at that." He looks back at the scroll. "So … this spells out what we gotta do better than a school ma'am with a pointer, don't it?"

"Does it?" Kimiko isn't sure what to think anymore. Her basic survival instinct is fighting with what she has read. She has always prided herself on having her own mind and not needing anyone else to make decisions for her. It's one of the things that has always most messed up the relationship with her mother – Kimiko's insistence that her choices are the right ones, and shouldn't be dictated by tradition or those nebulous boundaries laid down by 'marriagability'. Even when her choices turn out to be completely wrong, they're still _hers_, and she zealously guards her right to make them. Being the only girl in a temple of men and boys only ever sharpened this instinct. She has never wanted to be known as the weak little woman who needs to be rescued. She has never wanted anyone to think she can't take care of herself.

But what she has learned threatens this in a fundamental way, and she finds herself retreating, hiding away inside herself and leaning against Clay for assistance in a way she could never have imagined doing only a year ago. Relying on other Dragons has always been hard for her, but being a Dragon has taught her it's okay to admit you need help, or that you can't always cope alone. Still, for Kimiko, relying on others in the field is very different than relying on them for other, more personal things.

Man, has it really only been a year since the Shade appeared and everything went to hell in a handbasket? Adapt or die, that's what they had to learn after the Shade entered their lives. Adapt or die.

Adapt or _die_.

But what if dying isn't in the offing? What if dying would be merciful compared to what she and Clay are facing? Adapt or total annihilation. Adapt or find yourself snuffed out like a birthday candle. Adapt or be erased from existence. Adapt or be removed from the fabric of the whole freaking _universe_. No afterlife. No reincarnation. No Big Prada Sample Sale in the Sky.

Kimiko knows there is only one viable option for them: adapt.

"Doesn't it?" Clay says in answer to her question.

She sighs. "I hate this."

Clay stares at her for a moment. Then, wordlessly, he rolls up the scroll, tucks it into his sash and draws her into his arms. It's a plain old hug, the kind she might have wiggled out of a few years ago, but which she learned to accept as they became friends and she realised how much of Clay's communication comes from being tactile. He peppers his speech with southernisms and corny phrases that use a lot of words to say very little, and that used to irritate the hell out of her, but now she knows that Clay's idea of talking is only half to do with words. He can say a hell of a lot more with a gentle touch or a nod of his head. His hug now says: _I'm here, I've got you, I understand and I agree, but I won't let you face this alone_. Most importantly, it says: _I will not let you go._

Kimiko hugs him back, becoming his anchor as much as he is hers. Clay doesn't cling; he's not that kind of person. Even so, she feels a slight tremble in him and knows he's just as frightened about this as she is. Who would ever have predicted things would turn out this way? Who would ever have thought _they _would turn out this way?

Clay pulls back to hold her at arm's length. "You look about as happy as a dead pig in sunshine."

She pulls a face. "Ew. Way to ruin the moment." Then she kisses him. Like his hug, there's more to it than just a meeting of lips, but she uses words to say what really needs saying. "We don't have much time."

"Uh-huh." Reluctantly he lets go of her waist. He hands back the scroll and she rewraps the ribbon around it. "Reckon we oughta tell 'em?"

Kimiko thinks of the look on her double's face when she thought they'd found a solution. "They'll try to stop us."

"I don't much like keeping secrets from 'em."

"Neither do I."

She looks around at the Shen Gong Wu vault, which she never thought she would see again after their temple was destroyed. They've been given so many gifts here: the opportunity to experience what they thought they'd lost, the knowledge that their friends live on in some way, and a deeper appreciation of those they lost to the Shade. Kimiko feels a stab of guilt at how she treated Dashi's memory, and Dashi himself while he was alive. He sacrificed everything to give herself and Clay a second chance. He couldn't have known that chance would be cut short so abruptly. Last week she would have blown off the thought that she would want to be anything like Dashi. Now she thinks there were worse things. Dashi was arrogant, could be a Grade A jerk, had an ego the size of Tokyo, and treated everyone from Omi to Master Fung with the kind of offhand condescension that made Kimiko grind her teeth practically to stumps. However, he was also smart, self-sacrificing, loyal and compassionate underneath it all.

_Make it count_.

His final words – or the last he said to her, at least. She can't let him down. She can't let the Xiaolin Dragons here down – not Omi, not Raimundo, not this world's Clay, and not her own double, either. _Especially_ not the other Kimiko.

"Think we can spare the time for a real goodbye this time?"

Clay smiles at her. "Thank you."

* * *


	15. Connection

* * *

**15. Connection**

* * *

Kimiko's shocked when her doppelganger brings her a hairbrush.

"I'm out of practise," she says. "Mind helping me out?"

"Um, sure. But aren't you going to tell me about -?"

"Later." She sits down with her back to Kimiko and undoes her pigtails. "Trust me, it'll keep. Right now I just feel like doing something … well, that I used to do all the time. I always loved doing makeovers on myself. I kind of forgot that in the last year, but now … well, I'm reclaiming bits of myself I thought I'd lost. Besides, too much studying turns your brain to jelly, right?"

"Um, okay." Kimiko rises to her knees and takes the brush, pulling it through the hair with long strokes. It's longer than her own, the ends split but the texture much better than when the other Kimiko first arrived in this world. It's not like brushing her own hair at all, even though it should feel that way. As she work the other Kimiko makes a noise in the back of her throat, like a cross between a murmur and a … purr? Weird "What exactly do you want me to do?"

"I don't know. What do you suggest?"

"You're leaving _me_ to make the decision?" She has always been nitpicky about other people doing her hair. Even her mother's most expensive and exclusive hairdressers made her feel like ants were running all over her skull. She prefers doing it herself. Raimundo would call her a control freak – probably has, actually – but she doesn't care. Her hair is _hers_, and nobody else is getting their mitts on it.

The other Kimiko glances over her shoulder, one corner of her mouth turned up in a wry smile. "I think you know my tastes."

After brushing until the hair is shiny, Kimiko fetches her 'kitbag' of tools. At first she works alone, pulling at tufts and rearranging them, applying slides and pins, sweeping it back off her doppelganger's face and then brushing it forward again, but after a while the other Kimiko starts making suggestions. Kimiko smiles at the other girl's inability to let someone else take total control. This progresses to talk of snipping off the split ends, and a discussion of the best styles they've ever tried. Even though they share most of these styles, their preferences are different, which is a surprise even though it shouldn't be. Kimiko always loved the neon pink explosion of dreds she did last Summer, while her doppelganger favours anything short and dark. This probably stems from her battles with the Shade, although neither of them mentions this. She didn't want anything that could get in her way or be yanked on by an enemy. Kimiko remembers stories of ancient warriors whose necks were broken using their hair.

Eventually the conversation culminates in Kimiko fetching a bowl of hot water and washing her double's hair so they can have a proper go-around.

"Cut?" she says, grubbing around for a steel-tooth comb and finding a pair of scissors.

"Why not?" the other girl shrugs. "This is … fun. I'd forgotten how much fun this could be. How did I forget?"

"You kind of had other things on your mind."

"That's putting it mildly. But still, I can't believe I haven't done anything like this before now. You change your hair all the time, but I've never wanted to in all the time I've been here."

Kimiko smiles at her. "See? This proves you're getting back to normal. This is progress. You're healing. Next thing you know, you'll be begging me for a spare PDA and pretending to be me in online forums." She glances at the inert computer in the corner. "Speaking of which, I have to check my messages."

"Right now?"

She wants to say that she's waiting for more feedback from people about how to keep the doubles from disappearing without bad consequences. She wants to say that technically they've taken enough of a timeout and should get back to work, but somehow the look on her double's face makes her stop.

_How much time does she have left?_ pipes up a little voice; the one that keeps knocking on the closed doors in Kimiko's brain and yelling doubts even though she tries to ignore them and stay positive. _She's having fun. How many times has she actually had fun since she got here? How many times has she admitted it? Are you really going to shorten this for her when any second of happiness could be the last one?_

That's the point, though. Any second she could disappear; that's _why _they have to get back to work.

_All work and no play makes a condemned person a sucker_.

The PDA suddenly seems like an invasion – an intruder, cruel and unwanted, like a huntsman waiting with a shotgun for a flock of ducks. If it delivers more bad news it'll spoil this unexpected little patch of normality in all the weirdness, despite how ridiculous styling her interdimensional double's hair might sound. This is what they've been fighting _for_. This is important in a way she finds hard to define; connecting with the other Kimiko about something other than magic and butt-kicking.

She feels a stab of defensiveness and turns her back on the PDA. "I guess it can wait." After a while she says, "How about a chignon?"

"I was thinking something more like Trevor Sorbie," the other Kimiko replies, naming a famously quirky salon whose models often emerge looking like poodles or works of modern art. She shakes her head incredulously. "I can't believe I even remember that name."

"You can't change who you are. No matter what happens, you'll always be Kimiko Tohomiko." Wow, does it feel weird saying that. Totally appropriate, but still, weird.

It takes a moment, but the other Kimiko smiles. "I'm really glad it was this world Dashi sent us to."

"Me too. I mean, if you had to be sent anywhere, I'm glad it was here and not, y'know, World of the Bug People or something. Which is why -" She raps her knuckles lightly against the other girl's scalp. "- we have to find a way of keeping you guys around. If nothing else, so Mommy can work on _your _marriagability and leave me alone."

"No way!"

"Yes way."

"That's cruel and unusual! I hate kimonos. I always get the obi wrong."

"I know."

When they're finished, Kimiko Two examines herself in the mirror. "Wow." She turns her head this way and that.

"Not too shabby, if I do say so myself." Kimiko bites her lip. "Listen, about those scrolls -"

"I'm going to go show this to Clay."

"Huh?" She's startled by the sudden way her double jumps to her feet, cutting her off. "Um, okay, I guess. But seriously, are you going to tell me -"

"When I get back. You tidy up. By the time you're done I'll be ready to explain everything."

"All right, I guess."

The other Kimiko pauses. "Thanks for this. I appreciate … I mean, I really had forgotten … how much I love stuff like this. I guess I'd forgotten how much fashion and hair and things are a part of me."

Kimiko understands. She's often pegged as the techno-geek Dragon; the uber-nerd who dreams in binary and can type so fast her fingers are a blur. She supposes she's always made more of her appearance because of that – to remind herself, if nobody else, that she won't be pigeonholed as 'just' a girl or 'just' a geek. "Hey, you're Kimiko Tohomiko."

"Yeah. That means a lot, coming from you."

"Self-endorsement. Or does this count as stroking my own ego?"

Her doppelganger grins. It's a welcome sight. "Thank you," she says sincerely, and then dashes off.

Kimiko is struck by the depth of that last thank-you. A shiver runs down her spine. Why does she suddenly feel like there's more going on than she knows? Unsettled, she packs her things away and picks up the bowl of sudsy water. When she stands, however, she remembers her PDA and puts the bowl down again so she can ping open her messages.

What she finds makes her breath catch in her throat.

She has been aware of Watchers since she became a Dragon and started exploring the more mysterious side of life. She has never actually met one, though. The temple archives often mention Slayers alongside all the other forces for good operating in the world – one girl per generation born to fight vampires, just like there is always one Xiaolin Dragon per element for each generation, or one Golem Master to make sure whatever golems still remain don't run amuck, or one Dragonsbane sworn to eliminate all evil dragons – something Dojo can be counted on to rage about if the Dragonsbane is mentioned in his earshot. Kimiko knows Watchers mostly by their reputation as stuffy, secretive old men and women who store knowledge the way a sponge stores water, and keep to themselves and their own task of helping each Slayer in her work.

Now, however, she thinks she might have to rescind that opinion. In her inbox is a message from a young woman who claims to be a close associate of the current Slayer, and who offers the expertise of herself and the Slayer's former Watcher. Both are interested in the predicament faced by the Dragons, and the woman writes that they've actually had experience with doppelgangers from other worlds before, and would be very eager to help out in any way they can. Kimiko reads the message with growing delight. The woman asks if they can all meet up somehow – either in America, England or China, depending on which is most convenient and fastest for them to reach based on the other Kimiko and Clay's deterioration. She finishes with an earnest plea to be allowed to help, and provides several phone numbers where she can be reached at various times of the day.

Kimiko's heart soars. This could be it. It's the most solid thing she's received from all the lines she's thrown out, and Watchers have a reputation for excellence in their work. If a Watcher is involved that opens up a whole new door for them, and perhaps the answer is behind it.

"Rai!" she shouts, still staring at the screen but already turning to run into the corridor. There's no way anyone will hear her from here, but she can't keep silent. She's too happy. Weird scrolls or no weird scrolls, _she _may have solved the problem. Her natural competitiveness inflates as well. "Omi! Clay! Uh, Clays! Kimiko, come back! I have something!"

She has to cross the courtyard to reach the kitchen. As she does so, she passes the door to the Shen Gong Wu Vault. There are noises coming from within. Thinking it might be the others, she dashes inside.

"Guys? Are you in here?"

She pauses at the head of the spiral staircase. Nobody answers, even though she can hear them moving around down there.

"Guys?"

"Aw, hell," mutters a familiar voice.

Kimiko frowns. She opens her mouth to call again, but hears movement behind her. Before she can turn around, someone pinches the back of her neck and warm pain radiates outward from the spot, encompassing her whole body with tingles. Her visions blurs, greys, and then fades out. She isn't even aware of hitting the floor.

When she comes to there's someone next to her, shaking her shoulders.

"Kimiko? Kimiko! C'mon, don't do this."

"Y'shouldn't shake an 'nconscious person," she mumbles. "Might have injuries … spin'l …"

"You're awake." Raimundo sinks back on his heels.

"Well spotted." She pulls herself upright, feeling herself for injuries, but she can move fine, even if her head feels like it's filled with soggy tealeaves and Tabasco sauce, which has trickled into her tear-ducts, making her eyes sting. "What happened?" Things drip back into her mind: crossing the courtyard, coming into the Wu vault, brushing the other Kimiko's hair, checking her messages –

The message!

Her PDA is still in her hand. Even though she was knocked out, her fingers remained tight around it. Her knuckles are white and each joint crunches as she unclenches. The PDA is in screensaver mode – a kitten with giant eyes that keeps winsomely trying to catch a butterfly.

"Rai, I got it!"

"Huh?" He's confused – distracted, too. He keeps glancing at the doorway as though he wants to run through it. "What?"

"I know how to save them! Or I have more than we did before. They've met doubles from alternate realities before – they can help us fix this!" She falters, the last things falling back into place in her mind. Her cheeks prickle with embarrassment. "Uh, why was I unconscious on the floor?"

"Kimiko," Raimundo sways sombrely, "they're gone."

Alarm detonates inside her. "What?"

"Kimiko Two and Clay Two. They're gone."

"What do you mean 'gone'?" Please no. Please don't let them have faded away already; not when this new shred of hope has come to light. Please don't let fate have been that cruel.

But somehow the truth is even worse than that. "They ran away, and we don't have any clue where they went."

* * *


End file.
